Honeymoon
by w0man-1n-r3d
Summary: (previously archived on tbfanfic.com) The Sequel to One Small Step. June and John embark on their honeymoon in America, only to find deceit and trouble lay on the other side of the pond (completed!)
1. Prologue

Honeymoon  
  
by Ladydeakin  
  
DISCLAIMER: 'The Bill' characters depicted in this story are copyrighted to Thames Television/Pearson Corp. All other characters depicted in this story are copyrighted to the relevant author or creator.  
  
Prologue  
  
The double doors of the salon opened. Everyone stood and turned around, as the music swelled. Flashbulbs started popping as people whispered and took photographs. In walked June Gowan, on Sir Steven Croft's arm. She looked absolutely beautiful. She was wearing a long cream lace-trimmed gown, simple and elegant, carrying a bouquet of stargazer lilies and irises.  
  
John Boulton stood at the front of the room, with Duncan Lennox by his side. John smiled to himself. He was glad Duncan had a flask of whiskey in his pocket which he had helped himself to, five minutes ago. John had never been so nervous in his entire life as he was in this moment. He was sure that she wasn't going to turn up, but there she was, coming towards him, growing more beautiful by the second.  
  
John's breath caught in his throat as June glided down the aisle, magnificent and resplendent. Every time he saw her, she seemed to grow more beautiful in his eyes. Although they had only been a couple for six months, he loved her completely. Two weeks after she came back to him at the Met Christmas Party, he proposed and was shocked when she accepted. She truly did come back for him, and they were rarely apart from then on. To John, getting married seemed like the logical step. He loved her; with every fibre of his being he knew it. He would always love her for her softness, her sweetness and her fiery conviction and passion. Just being around her set his soul alight. Today he was going to make her his, forever. John couldn't be happier.  
  
June stood beside John at the front of the registry office. They looked at each other, shyly, and smiled.  
  
"Hi," she whispered.  
  
"Hi," he whispered back.  
  
"We are gathered here today to witness the joining of John Anthony Boulton and Judith Elizabeth Gowan in the contract of matrimony," the Registrar started. "If anyone here gathered knows of any reason why these two should not be joined in matrimony, please speak now."  
  
The room was silent, with the exception of cameras going off.  
  
"John Anthony Boulton, do you take Judith Elizabeth Gowan to be your lawfully wedded wife?"  
  
"I do." He smiled at June, love and adrenaline coursing through his veins.  
  
"And do you, Judith Elizabeth Gowan, take John Anthony Boulton to be your lawfully wedded husband?"  
  
"I do." June grinned, she was so happy she could start to cry at any moment and was struggling to compose herself.  
  
"May we have the rings, please?"  
  
Duncan produced two rings, and gave them to John and June  
  
"Repeat after me, with this ring, I thee wed."  
  
John and June placed the rings on each other's fingers and repeated the words.  
  
"I now pronounce you man and wife."  
  
John swept June in his arms, kissing her lovingly over and over again. It was official. She was his. Now and forever. 


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1.  
  
It was raining soft and warm as the large 747 touched tarmac at Washington Dulles International Airport. The lights of the runway and terminals glowed yellow and orange out of the tiny plane window. John squeezed June's hand during the inevitable bump and lurch of the landing. For June, this was a homecoming, perhaps the happiest one she would ever have, since the tragedy. For John, this was an adventure, as he had never been to the states before. June owned a house in Arlington, Virginia, which had been her parents' home, before they died. She also owned a beach house in Delaware. The plan was to spend a few days in Washington DC, and then go up to the beach house and spend the rest of their honeymoon soaking up the salt and sea.  
  
June and John breezed through immigration, and met up again at the baggage claim.  
  
June smiled, "Did they give you any trouble?"  
  
"Not at all, plus I got a fantastic stamp in my passport!" John grinned at his new wife.  
  
June examined the stamp; it was red, almost not visible against the pinkish- red background of the UK passport. "Ooh. Creative. Nice green card as well."  
  
John slid the passport into his breast pocket on his shirt. "Gee, thanks. I'm an alien - I'm an Englishman in DC."  
  
June shot John a sideways glance, "If you continue singing that I'm going to make you carry my suitcase."  
  
"So what else is new?" John laughed. As the suitcases were revealed on the conveyor belt, John pulled and tugged both of them off. "So where to now?"  
  
"Over there," June said, motioning to the customs desk. She handed the customs officer their collective white form. The officer glanced at it, and eyed June and John menacingly, before waving them through.  
  
As they walked out into the fenced greeting area, June whispered, "I never know how those guys will act. Sometimes they're nice, and other times they're right gits. I've had my suitcase searched, and the hems of my clothes felt down for no reason at all. US customs officers are power- hungry jerks."  
  
John stifled a laugh, "Sort of like US coppers?"  
  
"Oi you shut up!" June dug her elbow into his side. "You're not funny you know, you're on my territory now and it's my turn to make xenophobic jokes!"  
  
"But you won't, will you? You know I'm right!" John shot her a sweet smile.  
  
"Yeah, whatever, Mr. Boulton. Here's my bag." June left John standing with her suitcase as she bought two bus tickets to take them to the Metro station, which was a few miles away.  
  
"Sure thing, Mrs. Boulton." John called out to her. 'Mrs. Boulton,' he thought, 'Mrs. Boulton? My God, that sounds so strange. She's my wife. I have a wife!' The thought made him giddy and dizzy. Just yesterday he was a bachelor with a fiancée. Today he's a married man. It almost seemed unreal.  
  
June came back, "So are we ready? It's that one." They got on the bus, placing their luggage in the racks and sat down near the front. "We want to get off at West Falls Church Metro station. From there, it's a short trip to Ballston, where we get off."  
  
"Where do we go from Ballston?" John asked.  
  
"Well, at the top of the station, we get a bus up the road and get off near Marymount University. From there it's a short walk to the house. My car is there, in the garage."  
  
Getting off at West Falls Church Metro, John looked all around him. The station was so unlike the tube. It was above ground, in a purpose-built building. It was all brown and orange décor, a bit dated but the cleanliness and lack of graffiti made up for that. When the train pulled up, he could hardly believe that the seats were made of orange leather.  
  
"This sure beats the tube!" John said  
  
"Yeah, but don't let it fool you, it's cleaner and newer, but there are still tons of delays."  
  
"But it's got leather seats!"  
  
"They're plastic, you divvy. It only looks like leather. It's so that the drunken derelicts can't stain the seats as they ride the trains all day long."  
  
"Oh. Still, better than the black and white check of the Northern line."  
  
June raised an eyebrow at John and shrugged, "I guess so. If brown and orange is your thing."  
  
June rolled her eyes at her husband's enthusiasm. Fresh off a seven and a half-hour flight, and he was brimming with energy. Where did it all come from, and where could she get some? All she wanted to do is crawl into bed and sleep off the gruelling flight. June hated flying as she found the seats uncomfortable, the food lousy and the movies boring. She used to take two sleeping pills and they would carry her across the ocean but since the deep vein thrombosis scare she forced herself to stay awake to take exercise.  
  
John, on the other hand, loved flying. He ate his meals and hers as well. He watched the movies with great interest and played the video games in the back of the seat. In many ways he reminded June of a big kid. During work hours he was hard nosed, no-nonsense 'Robocop', as Kerry Holmes put it, but away from work he became her John - gentle, kind, almost child-like. He had been hurt and disappointed so many times in the past, so at first it was hard for her to break through his outer shell. For many months she felt as if there was a little piece of his heart that he was holding back from her. As the months got closer to their wedding day, though, he let his guard down, little by little until there were no secrets left, nothing left unspoken or unsaid, no more uncomfortable silences. They were each other's best friend, as close as two people can possibly be. June was excited about sharing her old life with John.  
  
* * *  
  
Since the murder of her parents, June moved to England and didn't come home very often. After Pedro Escoverda, the man behind the killings, was apprehended, she came home for two months, to see if she could, finally, cope with being back in the states, living in her family home. She finally felt almost at peace when she was there, almost, because John was on her mind the whole time. She tried putting him out of her mind, and dating others, but she couldn't do it. June found the men she dated to be shallow and unintelligent, when compared with John. She, probably, would have been able to join back up in the US FBI if it wasn't for John. Her heart was his, as much as she tried to fight it. One day, early December, she decided that she had enough, and had to see him again, to see if he still had the same feelings for her. She phoned up her UK boss, Sir Steven Croft, and found out about the Met Christmas Ball, which was three weeks away. She organised a ticket and flew back over to England, staying in a hotel since she put her flat up to be let. She contemplated going to John's apartment, and knocking on the door, but decided that would not be the best way, nor would a phone call. June figured the Christmas ball would probably be the best time to see John again. It would be in a public place, and she would have friends there in case he gave her the cold shoulder. That is, of course, if he decided to go in the first place. She couldn't shake away the niggling doubt that he would rather be seen dead than go to a posh ball. She decided to risk it, after much soul searching and self-torture. She had to know, one way or another, if there could be a future for her and John, or if it was destined to be a could-have-been.  
  
She had dry heaves the whole morning before the ball. Her nerves were almost as bad as the days following her family's murder. She paced around the hotel suite, trying on various dresses she had picked up the day before. She experimented with different hairstyles, and wanted to look absolutely perfect. She cursed her stomach, thighs and arse, and the fact that she had cheesecake the night before. 'Room Service should be outlawed,' she thought to herself, 'as should Haägen Dazs, Ben and Jerry's and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.' Finally she chose the black long dress, and decided to go for the whole 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' profile. If anything would make his heart beat faster, it would be this outfit. She got herself ready, called the concierge for a black cab and waited.  
  
Upon entering the main ballroom at the Savoy, she saw the heads of people she didn't recognise. Sir Steven was nowhere to be found, and she didn't see John anywhere. She stood at the top of the steps, peering into the crowd, feeling more nervous by the second. June saw him and for a second their eyes locked. Reg Hollis smiled and started to wave. All of a sudden a figure turned around and noticed her, and mostly everyone else did as well. It was John. He was here. She started to smile and took a deep breath. He wasn't smiling. His eyes were as big as supper plates. She walked down the steps towards him, her heart thudding in her chest so loudly, she could swear everyone heard it.  
  
"I wasn't sure if you would be here, as I didn't reckon these sort of do's were exactly your scene, DS Boulton."  
  
As she smiled shyly up at him, fingering his lapel, the look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.  
  
And, here they were, six months later, husband and wife, in America together. After so many years of pain, torture and grief, June felt complete, whole again. John healed the massive wound that was left after the tragedy. Although she would always miss her parents and Thomas, she felt that they had sent her John to help her move on with her life. She took his arm and hugged it to her, leaning against him, closing her eyes. The train carriage rocked gently along the tracks and June enjoyed her new- found peace.  
  
"Ballston for Marymount University, orange line train to New Carrolton." "Doors opening."  
  
They gathered up their luggage just in time and got off just as the train announced "Doors Closing".  
  
June was home.  
  
* * *  
  
He studied the card intently. One card, they were obviously married. The man was British, but she was American. 'Typical,' he thought to himself, 'American women hear the accent and that's it, they're smitten. So many couples like these two, nowadays. It never used to be that way. It used to be that American women knew their place in the world, and knew better than to run off to some foreign country to shack up with foreign men. It's pathetic. What's the world coming to? Someone should make an example out of couples like these two, and teach these women to marry men from the USA, and stay where they belong.'  
  
"C'mon mate, are you going to take all day?" The British man leaned over the counter to examine the gadgets on the desk. The woman took him by the arm and said, "Be patient, honey. The officer is just doing his job." She smiled at the customs officer who was glaring with pure hatred at the British man.  
  
He picked up his rubber stamp and slammed it down on the form. Looking at the woman, he said, through clenched teeth, "Welcome Home."  
  
The woman smiled, gathered her baggage and cracked a joke to the man about him carrying her suitcase. 'Whore,' the officer thought to himself as she walked away. 'The Leader is right, someone ought to teach you a lesson in respect for the United States of America. Someone like me.' The officer looked at the card, "Boulton" it read. "1741 North Glebe Avenue." As he filed the card away he memorised the address. 'Someone's gonna teach you a lesson, little girl.' 


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.  
  
John and June opted for a taxi when they got out of the Metro station. June knew that around the corner from the International House of Pancakes there was a taxi rank. As they pulled up at June's family's estate, John was taken aback. Even in the darkness of night John could tell that it was a spectacular house. It was a large, three story old white colonial mansion. The house was definitely in competition with the other houses on the street to be the largest, but could possibly be the winner. There were four large pillars on the outside, supporting the front porch and the top levels of the house. It was absolutely lovely.  
  
"June, this is absolutely gorgeous! I had no idea your house would look like this," John exclaimed as he tugged and grunted to get the suitcases out of the boot of the taxi.  
  
June was fishing in her handbag for the keys to the front door. "Thanks. At one point, the Gowans used to own all of the land around here. We were an old tobacco plantation family from before the civil war. After the war we fell on hard times and sold off most of our land."  
  
Finding the keys she walked towards the house, dragging bags and cases with her. John paid the taxi driver who drove off. She unlocked the door and keyed off the alarm. "Welcome to my ancestral home," she said, turning around and spreading her arms out. With a small, sad smile, she looked at John and said, "This is all that's left of my life over here."  
  
The house was beautiful, dusty and whispered everywhere of days long past, of children and parents and servants. The furniture was covered with drop cloths. The front hallway had a long staircase leading up to the second story. To the left was a parlour and to the right was the kitchen. Towards the back of the house was a large dining hall, which had one wall completely covered in glass looking out on what was once a beautiful garden. Portraits were on all of the walls, covered with paper so they wouldn't fade with the light. John could feel the sadness that hung in the air, the pain and loss that June felt seemed to be seeped within the house, bouncing off of the walls.  
  
John walked towards June, taking her in his strong muscular arms and holding her close to him. He kissed her over and over again, soothing her pain, loving her more with each breath he took.  
  
"I know it hurts. I know. You're not alone anymore to face this. It's us now. This place is ours now and someday our children will run through the halls and everything will be better.  
  
June wept softly into his shoulder, feeling exactly as she did every time she came back here after being away, since the tragedy. She could live here, she proved it to herself when she was here for two months after Escoverda was captured. It was the initial coming home that took the most out of her though.  
  
John picked June up in his arms and started to carry her up the steps. "Come on, my bride. No more crying. Which way is the bedroom?"  
  
June wrapped her arms around her new husband's neck and smiled through her tears, her heart breaking yet bursting with love for John all at the same time. She nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck and held him. She wasn't alone anymore; she was safe here and no one would hurt her again. She knew John would see to that.  
  
* * *  
  
The streetlights on North Glebe Avenue were not the best in the world. In fact, where there were streetlights, they would illuminate a yellow-ish beam down to the ground, and everything around them was black. Had those streetlights been doing their job, they would have been able to reveal a black unmarked car, silent and stealthy as a panther, crawling up the street slowly. The time was 1:30 am. The lights at 1741 North Glebe Avenue were on, because the two occupants were not sleepy, as they were used to rising at this time to get ready for work. The only difference being that they were an ocean away, and five time zones, from where work was. The man in the unmarked car drove very slowly past the house and pulled up beside the wood that was just past the end of the lawn.  
  
He got out on foot, and made his way through the wood, quietly, keeping his eyes on the house. As it was a hot night in June, the windows were open and the man could hear the occupants of the house talking to each other.  
  
"Right, now pull it up to the top. Come on!"  
  
*laughter*  
  
"June, you're going to put a wrinkle in it!"  
  
"No I didn't, you did!" *laughter*  
  
"If you can't make a bed then it's not my fault. Bloody hell, you Americans!"  
  
"Oi cork it, Boulton!"  
  
"You cork it, Misses Boulton!"  
  
*whump* *whump* A large pillow went flying out of one of the top windows accompanied by more laughter.  
  
* * *  
  
The man grimaced at the shadows, which formed on the wall and proceeded to make his way around the house. He studied the ground floor - the back of the house was completely covered in glass with two French doors leading into the back garden. A security system was visible on the far wall, and he assumed that it was sensitive to the glass. He scaled around the back of the house. Wherever he was going to do it, here would not be a good place. It was well covered, but the security system would definitely cause problems. No, the best bet would be to do it somewhere else. For right now, however, he needed to make some arrangements, and hopefully get the backing of The Leader. The man crawled back to the car through the woods and proceeded to make it's way to the end of the street. The car's taillights disappeared into the pitch-black night.  
  
* * *  
  
Around 3:00 am, John and June were still wide-awake and hungry, their internal clocks being completely out of sync from the flight. June started pulling the covers off of the furniture, after they made the beds. John teased June for keeping the duvet, pillows and sheets wrapped in plastic while they were in the drawers. June teased John for calling the river running through Washington D.C. the pot-o-mack instead of the po-to-mic. Many a pillow fight ensued as the battle of wills commenced. John decided to do some exploring as June scavenged the kitchen for some instant coffee.  
  
The master bedroom of the house was not the one that June slept in, that being her parents' room. Her bedroom was equally as large though, with a huge sleigh bed, which dated back to before the civil war. The walls were beige with hard wooden floors throughout. The master bedroom had an en- suite, and a four-poster bed. The en-suite was slightly modernised for hot water and indoor plumbing, but that was about it. It had an old antique bathtub and original fittings wherever possible. The main bathroom had completely modern features but still retained the original features and classic décor. The bathtub was large and square, and had a showerhead. The toilet and sink were modern, as was the counter space. There was a guestroom, a study and a nursery on the second floor, in addition to a staircase leading to the top floor.  
  
On the top floor there was some items used as storage in one corner, and a desk, telescope and star charts in another, which used to belong to June's father. John studied over his star charts and graphs, sitting in his chair. The tobacco case had been left open with the pipe, and John could still faintly smell the vanilla aroma coming from it. He closed his eyes, feeling slightly drowsy and thought back to what June told him about her family.  
  
June's father was an astronomer as a hobby, and this is where he did his work. At one time, it had been used as servants' quarters. The Gowans had always maintained servants and treated them very well, as members of the family. Many people had tried to get into the service of the Gowans before the civil war, as they were known as fair, just people where no beatings went on, and nobody was abused. They were pillars of the community and had opposed slavery, preferring to treat all people equally. "Treat people fairly and they will treat you in kind," was the motto of James Gowan, the head of the family at that time. They were even involved with the underground railway. The Gowans paid their slaves, and then their sharecroppers a fair wage, gave them freedom to leave whenever they wished, and did not, ever, beat or abuse their people. If any situations did occur, they were fairly dealt with.  
  
June was a debutante in her day - a real southern belle expected to marry well, keep house and raise children. She was the only child of Richard and Elizabeth Gowan, the 9thgeneration of Gowans in Arlington. Richard had a brother but he died fighting in the Vietnam War. It was inevitable that the Gowan name would die when June married, but the hope was that the traditions of the family would carry on and be passed into the next generation. June had loved her parents desperately and tried very hard to fit into the whole social scene of southern debutantes, but found herself lacking somewhere. She had the looks, she had the lineage, but always felt like she was somehow not right for that lifestyle. She made a friend, Donna Jameison, who also felt the same way. With each other's support, they broke their parents' hearts when they announced they were not going to be a debutante anymore, and they were going to go to college and have lives, not babies, and have careers, not husbands. Donna went on to become a marine biologist. June studied psychology and sociology at Boston University in Massachusetts, and from there gave up a social life and took up with the FBI.  
  
June's father was secretly pleased at this outcome but it broke her mother's heart, who was a true belle of the ball at one time. She met Richard at a debutante social event and they courted, doing everything through the correct channels. The idea that June would not be going through the correct channels to meet a husband of the right lineage, and would just be gambling on potluck, falling in love with any idiot, was too horrible to contemplate. However, June was never one to date, really, preferring to take the attitude that she had more important things to do, if someone comes along, fine, but let's not go out of our way. Because of her looks, she had more than her share of suitors but she didn't give most of them the time of day, as their shallowness and stupidity were an instant turn off. "Looks are one thing, but if all that comes out of the mouth is rubbish, I'm not interested," she told her mother after a set-up blind date. "What turns me on the most is finding an intellectual equal. Carrying on conversations is very sexy."  
  
It wasn't until she graduated from the FBI academy that her mother was finally able to accept that her daughter had a mind and a will of her own. June bought herself a small apartment in Arlington and worked out of the Pentagon. She never got a placement in a field office because of her superior abilities. She graduated Magna Cum Laude, top honours, from university and from the FBI academy. And one day, while she was on a routine search and seizure mission she laid eyes on Thomas Croswell. Thomas' partner, Gene Ianazzi was injured by a stray bullet, nothing serious, but had some time off to recover. They were paired together for this mission, by chance. And, it was love at first sight. After the mission he asked her out for dinner, she agreed, and they rarely were apart from there. June was promoted and put in charge of her own investigations. Thomas and Gene were under her command, as was a team of other support officers.  
  
Thomas was a kind man who had a good soul. He was very good at what he did, and enjoyed it. Thomas had no desire to move up to conducting investigations, as he preferred to get into it first hand and not from behind a desk. He had a string of failed relationships with women who couldn't understand the pressures and demands of working in the FBI. And then he met June, by accident, and that was it. They were a couple. Thomas was captivated by June's intellect and wit. He simply adored her and she adored him. Thomas was the first man that June ever seriously dated, and also considered marrying. And then one day he proposed, as they were working on a very high profile drug cartel case. She did not hesitate to say yes. Two weeks later he was dead. A week later her parents were dead. Her car was blown up. She was shot at. And from there she moved to the United Kingdom to live and work with Scotland Yard's international criminal investigation unit. The rest is history.  
  
* * *  
  
John leaned back in the chair massaging his temples, feeling the drafts blow through the upstairs windows. He heard June's footsteps on the stairs. In her hands were two steaming hot cups of coffee.  
  
"What are you doing up here, then?"  
  
"Just looking around."  
  
"I can't vouch for the freshness but it's all we've got. Enjoy." June handed John a mug.  
  
"Thanks. What are we going to do about food?"  
  
"Well, we could go grocery shopping - the grocery store is open 24 hours. Are you hungry?"  
  
"Yep. I've heard about these 24 hour American mega-shops."  
  
"Alright then, put some trousers on and let's go."  
  
"Do I have to?"  
  
"Yes, for goodness sake, don't go frightening the children!"  
  
"Ain't no one here but us perverts!" John joked, opening his robe and flashing her.  
  
"Oh God, I don't want to see that!" June put her hand to her eyes and looked away. She got up to go downstairs. "I swear, all you think about is sex."  
  
"You're not much better!"  
  
"Yes I am." June stuck her tongue out at John and moved towards the steps.  
  
"You're not going to put that back in your mouth, I hope!"  
  
"Funny, funny, funny." June wrinkled her nose and made a face. "I'm getting dressed. I suggest you do the same or be left behind."  
  
"Do you want to see my left behind?" John got up and turned around.  
  
June tried really hard to hold her laughter back and sound authoritative. "Shut up John. I'm going to pretend I never heard that. "  
  
And with that, June went downstairs. John sat back down and grinned. Being married is fun.  
  
* * *  
  
"Right, we don't want to get a lot because we're going to Delaware in a few days and will only be back here for one night before our flight."  
  
John had been to the hypermarkets in France a few times and they were about the only parallel for the shop he was in at the moment. It was absolutely huge, and it looked as if it was a warehouse. It had clothes, music, appliances, and food in it. June obviously knew where she was going but he was almost overwhelmed by the sheer size of the place.  
  
"Super Wal-Mart, eh, so this is what they want to bring to Britain," John asked, craning his neck around to take it all in.  
  
"Yup. Can't wait." June said as she grabbed a large box of instant potatoes.  
  
"Oh, I can." John mumbled and studied the spreads, looking for Marmite, unsuccessfully.  
  
"What's wrong with it?" June asked, as she took a box of pierogies from the frozen food cabinet.  
  
"It's so very big, impersonal and big, I don't like it." John said, as he scanned the shelves unsuccessfully looking for fruited scones. He held up two loaves of bread. "I mean, look at this, where's the difference?"  
  
"That one is low-fat potato bread and this one is multigrain whole wheat with raisins," June said with a smile.  
  
"What do you need all these choices for? Don't things go off?"  
  
"Nope, people buy them. It will mostly all get bought up. Freedom of choice - it's the beauty of America, and Britain as well, you know."  
  
"I guess." John shrugged and June grabbed the potato bread out of his hand and put it in the cart.  
  
"Low fat?" John questioned. "What on Earth do you need to buy low-fat bread for?"  
  
"Because I need to watch my girlish figure. Do you know what, this is the first time we've grocery shopped together ever?"  
  
"Yeah, you usually do online shopping and make me haul it up into the flat when you're out."  
  
"Bitch, bitch, bitch. You know you could start a vineyard with the amount of whine that comes out of you."  
  
"Thank God I wore a corset for I fear my sides have split."  
  
June picked up the loaf of potato bread and lobbed it at him. "You know, Mr. Boulton you are terribly rude and bad mannered."  
  
She attempted to side step him but he caught her elbow and pulled her towards him.  
  
"Yeah but that's why you love me isn't it? You like me rude, don'tcha baby?"  
  
"Don't make me break out my pepper spray." June twisted away from him and took back control of the trolley, leaving John in aisle 3, shaking his head and grinning.  
  
* * *  
  
Back at the house, dawn was beginning to break through the sky, streaking it with gold, red, purple and blue. June unpacked, yawning to herself. John was also yawning over his cup of coffee.  
  
"This jetlag is enough to kill me," John said.  
  
"Don't I know it. But we've got to try to make it through the whole day and our body clocks will adjust."  
  
"What do you have in mind?"  
  
"Something easy. Shopping. There's a great mall in Pentagon City. Just go and browse around a bit. I've got to check in with the agency as well so I'll do that and meet you there."  
  
"Alright. Can I get a few hours' kip first?"  
  
"Yeah, I suppose. I need one and all."  
  
John went upstairs and crawled into bed, closing his eyes and falling asleep almost instantly. June plugged her laptop in and logged in to check her email. She sent her American boss at the FBI, Mr. Smithton, an email letting him know she was back home and would be checking in later in the day. Also, she put in the letter that she really didn't want to tackle any administrative work on her honeymoon. June went into the basement and unlocked her trunk. She got out her service revolver and holster. June took the piece upstairs, cleaned it, tested it and put it in the holster. She needed to hit the range soon and get back into practice, but she shook off the doubts about her ability to use her weapon. Since moving to the UK she obviously didn't carry a gun, and therefore had little reason to keep her skill up. She did practice with the hand-strengtheners, but not as much as she should do. Coming home was a different matter though. She always carried her weapon in the USA. Call it fear, call it paranoia, June called it insurance.  
  
June went upstairs, taking her holster with her. She laid it on the dresser and looked at her sleeping husband. He was turned towards her, red hair on a white pillow, he looked like an angel. She smiled and caressed his cheek softly. His eyes opened and he looked at her.  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Hi, may I come in?"  
  
"I'm sure I can find you some room."  
  
June turned back the covers and crawled under the blankets. As soon as her head hit the pillow she fell asleep, with John's warm arm around her, as always. 


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3.  
  
June opened up the garage and pulled the dust cover off of her car. She had a 99' Mercury Mountaineer 4x4 vehicle. It was a lovely two-tone shade of blue with leather interior and a sunroof.  
  
"This is my baby, my pride and joy. I love everything about this vehicle. It was the first new car I ever owned and I adore it. My Alfa in the UK and my Mountaineer in the US - I'm a happy girl!"  
  
John smiled. He was never an off-road vehicle aficionado, believing them to only be driven by idiots. However, in America, they had hoards of them, fleets of them everywhere, and he figured that she couldn't help herself, it was a product of her environment. He had to admit, the ride was very nice, it was a plush vehicle and it went rather fast. He bet to himself, though, that it wouldn't go up hills very well.  
  
"Right, I'm gonna let you off here. June said, turning down the air conditioning and opening the windows to the car.  
  
John jumped down out of the car and walked over to the driver's side, leaning in.  
  
Take the orange line train to Rosslyn and change there for a blue line train to Franconia-Springfield. Get off at Pentagon City - it's one stop down from the Pentagon. I've got to drive into the city to FBI headquarters and check in with my boss. I'll meet you at the food court at 1:30. Call me as soon as you get there."  
  
"Right, see you later, love you baby," John said, giving her a kiss goodbye.  
  
"I love you too sweetheart." And then she drove off.  
  
John looked around him. A black car had pulled up behind June and had stayed there. The windows were down, and a man was sitting at the drivers' side. John wasn't sure if the man was watching him or not, but he looked awfully suspicious. A group of college girls were getting off of a blue and white shuttle bus and they had heard his accent. One of them, a big blonde girl looked over and nudged her friend, a tall thin black girl. John looked around and could tell they were talking about him. He went down into the station and they followed, whispering and looking in his direction.  
  
He studied the ticket machine intently, not being able to figure out how to work it. He decided to give the girls a thrill as they were buying tickets as well, but were still whispering and looking in his direction.  
  
"Excuse me, how do you work this machine?"  
  
One of them, the blonde girl, went over to him and said, "Oh my God, you're British! My boyfriend's British, where are you from?"  
  
"Um, London," John said, blushing to himself.  
  
"So's he! Oh my God what a coincidence! I was just over there in the winter, it's sooo beautiful! I love it there and want to move over."  
  
'God help us all if you do,' John thought to himself. "I'm sure you'll like it."  
  
"Anyway, do you need help with this machine? These machines suck!"  
  
"Yes, please."  
  
Just then the black girl chimed in, "Yes please!", imitating his accent. "I love your accent it's so cool! Yes please!"  
  
The blonde girl spun around to look at her friend, "Stop being so buck, Kendra!"  
  
"I'm not being buck, you're the one being buck with your 'Oh my God he's a Brit'"  
  
"Ladies, please," John said, growing annoyed, "Can you just get me a ticket?"  
  
"Where are you going?" the blonde girl asked.  
  
"Pentagon City Mall." John said.  
  
"OHMYGOD! That's where we're going! Is this your first time? You can come with us! What's your name? My name's Cathy, she's Kendra and that's Connie. What's your name?"  
  
John barely managed to blurt out his name before a ticket was thrust into his hand and he was being led towards the barrier gates. Kendra was on one side of him, Cathy was on the other, and Connie trotted along behind them, not saying anything.  
  
"Don't put yourselves out or anything, I don't want to be trouble," John protested, not wanting to go to wherever this place was with these three.  
  
"Oh don't worry, it's no trouble, we'd be glad to help you, wouldn't we Kendra?" Cathy looked over at her friend.  
  
"Don't be so buck, John!" Kendra said, and nudged him.  
  
"So, John, do you have a girlfriend?" Cathy asked him.  
  
"Uh, yeah, I'm on my honeymoon. I've just gotten married."  
  
All three girls looked at each other, breaking into swoons. "Ohmygod, that's soooo romantic! Your wife is so lucky, you're gorgeous!" Cathy said.  
  
Kendra grabbed Cathy by the arm and pulled her away from John. Connie followed.  
  
John heard snippets of their conversation, "He's married, he's too old, you're being buck, stop it!"  
  
Cathy came back. "Uh, sorry about that, my friend was being weird," she said.  
  
For the rest of the way there, the girls didn't say much. Cathy was still looking at him, longingly, but wasn't overtly fawning over him. He was almost glad to have them as the Rosslyn exchange was a bit tricky at first, but was nowhere near as hard as anything on the Tube. They left him at the food court at Pentagon city and went on their way. He could hear them giggling as they went up the escalator. Cathy shot him one last, longing glance and they disappeared into a shop. John rolled his eyes and looked around him.  
  
The Mall at Pentagon City was absolutely the largest shopping precinct John ever saw in his life. He had been out to Bluewater recently, and thought that was big, but nothing could prepare him for this mall. It seemed to go up and up. Everywhere he looked there were busy people, busy shops, and he felt almost heady being in that environment.  
  
Wandering around, a bit lost, he located some payphones on the wall. He struggled to get the call through, misdialling about five times, but finally did manage to get the call to June's mobile connected, only to find it was switched off. He left a brief voicemail, letting her know he was there and he loved her.  
  
'Like I'm some sort of child who can't cross the road without holding mummy's hand,' he thought to himself jokingly. 'I suppose she just wants to know I'm alright, after all it is my first time in Washington.' His stomach grumbled a bit and he decided to get a hamburger, as the food court was right across from where he was standing.  
  
After eating, he still had a half-hour to kill. He went up to the first floor and walked around the shops. John went into Victoria's Secret and contemplated buying a sexy night-gown for June. He then realised that he had no idea what size she wore! 'Typical,' he thought to himself, 'the one time I find myself in a shopping mall I can't even shop right. God I hate these places.' He paused outside a gadget shop, looking at the laptop computers and palm-tops. The Met was beginning to introduce these sort of machines into the force, gradually. He remembered that pain-in-the-ass Reg Hollis prattling on about a website, wanting him to pose for a picture. John couldn't remember exactly what he told Reg, but believed it was along the lines of placing certain machines up certain places where they weren't meant to go. John couldn't make a lot of sense out of this technology rubbish. June was an expert at it, and she was trying to teach him about it, gradually, but it still baffled him. He wasn't from the days of nicking criminals electronically. He much preferred using the sweat and muscle method of nicking, one of the few points that he and Chris Deakin agreed upon. John smiled to himself and walked on. He passed a card shop and knew what he could buy for June, one size fits all.  
  
Browsing through the hundreds of cards John was spoilt for choice. American cards were so wordy! Most English cards were blank on the inside and he had to write his own message inside. American cards all came with pre-written messages, poems, and jokes. It was difficult to choose the right thing. John finally settled on a card which read:  
  
To my Wife:  
  
Every day that goes by,  
  
I find new reasons why  
  
my love for you grows.  
  
Your beauty and your grace  
  
can never be replaced  
  
nor can you.  
  
John also bought her a single rose. He borrowed a pen from the lady behind the register and signed the card and addressed the envelope to June. Sliding it inside his inner coat pocket, he held the rose and walked on. As he was walking on the top level of the mall, a man came running in through the car park doors.  
  
"Hey, you, can you help me?" The man was wearing a cast on his left arm.  
  
"What's the problem?" John asked.  
  
"My car won't start and I'm in a hurry. Can you have a look?"  
  
"Uh. alright.." John glanced around quickly and then followed the man outside onto the top level of the car park which was deserted.  
  
The man drove a large white van. John set the rose on the ground. He leaned over to peer into the open hood of the van. John never saw the man pick up the crowbar.  
  
The man proceeded to whack John three times, rendering him unconscious. As John's lifeless body slumped forward, the man put his arms underneath him and dragged him into the back of the van. There was blood dripping from John's skull onto the van and his jacket. The card slipped out from his jacket and fell under the wheel of the van. The man went to the front of the van and closed the hood. He got inside and started the engine and drove off.  
  
The rose was crushed underneath the tyres of the van. The card had tyre tracks on it, almost obscuring the addressee on the front of it.  
  
* * *  
  
John awoke with a start to the sound of something heavy and loud above him. All around him was blackness but he knew something was above him. The wall he was resting against felt greasy and was made of thick concrete. He looked up and could see the tiniest shaft of light. Attempting to stand he hit his head against what felt like wood. He tumbled back down onto the cold concrete floor. This place smelt like petrol, motor oil and other garage smells. The fumes from whatever machine was above him were making him light-headed. John passed out again, slumping back on the floor.  
  
John awoke to a steel-toe boot making contact with his posterior. His eyes shot open as the boot was a trifle off the mark, and he screamed in agony. Already being partially curled up, he tried as best he could to absorb the blows. His captor reached down and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, hauling him upright. The buttons on the shirt popped off and John slumped back down to the ground. The man now had a clear target for John's stomach and ribcage.  
  
"Get up you piece of shit. Get up, scumbag."  
  
John opened his eyes. They were itching from something in the pit he was in. His limbs felt like lead, thanks to the damp concrete around him. His throat was dry and he could barely talk.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You're a no good piece of shit, do you understand me?"  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
The man booted John squarely in the face. John felt his nose breaking and wasn't sure but thought maybe his jaw was fractured as well. He was hungry; his head throbbed as did the rest of his body.  
  
"What country are you in, you piece of foreign shit?"  
  
"America."  
  
"And what sort of wife do you have?"  
  
"She's American." June. Her face appeared before his eyes. Where was she? What was she doing? Did she even realise by now that he was gone?  
  
"I know your kind. Marrying an American wife just to get in the country. You make me sick you parasite. I'm gonna teach you to stay in your own country and leave our women alone."  
  
To John this made no sense. What did he mean, 'leave our women alone?' Did people really think that way in this day in age?  
  
John closed his eyes. The booting continued. He passed out, his head rolling back and hitting against the concrete wall.  
  
* * *  
  
June checked her watch. She had been standing there for 15 minutes and there was no sign of John. She shifted her weight from one foot to another. Looking up, she surveyed the people on the escalators.  
  
'Where could he be?' she thought to herself, 'It's not like him to be late.'  
  
Getting increasingly fed up, she went over to the customer service desk. The woman behind it looked to be about 50, and was working on a piece of embroidery.  
  
"I think my husband's gotten lost. It was his first time here."  
  
The woman looked up and rolled her eyes.  
  
"And how old is your husband, ma'am?"  
  
"38 years old. He's got red hair and is about 5'9". His name is John Boulton."  
  
The woman, Jane, by her name badge, grabbed the mall microphone and switched it on."  
  
"Paging John Boulton. John Boulton, please make your way to the customer service desk by the food court. John Boulton."  
  
She switched off the microphone and said, "Don't worry he'll turn up."  
  
June was beginning to get a funny feeling in her stomach. She had been to this place before and was afraid of what was coming.  
  
"Could you have the guards search the mall for him? Here's a picture."  
  
"Ma'am, I think you're overreacting. Your husband is a grown man. He probably got distracted in the sporting goods store and lost track of time."  
  
"My husband doesn't like sporting goods. He's British, a policeman. And I'm FBI." June whipped open her badge, showing it to the woman. "I'm requesting that your guards do a search of the mall."  
  
The woman studied the badge and rolled her eyes again. "Murray, Sam, come here. Go for a walk and see if you can find this guy." Jane motioned to the picture.  
  
June went up to the first floor. The security guards went to the second and third floors. The old familiar taste rose in her stomach, into her throat and mouth. Fear, anxiety, bile. She scanned the faces of the people passing by, ducking quickly into shops looking for John's instantly recognisable profile. She had the two major department stores scour their shops for John as well.  
  
Returning to the front desk, the two guards were there, drinking coffee. "Nope, didn't find him, ma'am. Looks like he's gone."  
  
June knew this before she started the search for him. Instinct or experience, the same dead weight was inside her as before.  
  
"He wouldn't just go. He would get a message to me if he was going anywhere. Besides, he knows no one, and is not familiar with Washington. He's on his first trip to America."  
  
June realised that she was getting nowhere with these inept people. She opened her mobile phone and dialled the police. They dispatched two officers. Soon enough, two fat slovenly officers waddled towards her.  
  
"Mrs. Boulton, I'm Officer Morton and he's Officer Davis. We're here to help you find your husband, ma'am."  
  
June flashed her badge and the officers were duly impressed. "I'm June Boulton, FBI. I'm reporting a possible abduction of a male, 5'9", 170 pounds, hair red, eyes hazel. The man is a British national on vacation. His name is John Anthony Boulton." June felt around in her handbag quickly, producing a photo she kept in her wallet. "Here is a photograph of the victim."  
  
"Would you mind repeating some of that, Special Agent Boulton?"  
  
"Sure," June said, as slowly as she possibly could, "if you boys wouldn't mind getting a few detectives, a crime scene examiner, a search dog and some more able manpower to search this mall."  
  
The officers looked at each other and then back to her. "We'll see what we can do."  
  
They got on their radios and started babbling into them. June rolled her eyes and called her boss.  
  
"Mr. Smithton, sir, I think my husband has been abducted. I told him to go to Pentagon City Mall. I've just arrived and he is not here where he should have been. He left a message on my phone telling me that he made it to the mall ok. I've had the mall searched, and he's been paged but he's not turned up yet. It's not like him to be late."  
  
James Smithton was a fair man. He cared very deeply for all of the agents under his command, but June Gowan was an exception. He cared for her perhaps most of all. He had been her boss since before she led the tragic investigation on Pedro Escoverda. No one could have anticipated the consequences of that, and least of all the affect that it would have directly on June's life. Her fiancé getting killed was bad, but for the man to go psycho and kill her family, was absolutely unthinkable. He helped June get through it, seeing that she had protection, supporting her through her counselling and was proud that she made a successful life for herself in England. Once upon a time, he had also hoped that there could have been more between him and June, but Smithton didn't reckon that June had any clue about his feelings. Regardless, he had wanted to be at her wedding to this new guy, but work wouldn't permit it, besides he figured he would meet her new husband while they were on honeymoon.  
  
Listening to her voice now, Smithton could hear the anxiety and panic masked under a lifetime of self-control. He figured the police were already there, and per usual, the illustrious Arlington police sent two yobs to do the job. They saved their capable and intelligent cops for the revenue- earning jobs, i.e.: traffic violations. He wanted to help her, although he prayed that it wasn't what she thought it was, given her past, he knew better than to disregard her panic. After all, at the end of the day June was a capable, smart agent, and wasn't prone to blowing situations out of proportion.  
  
"June, I'll be right down. I'll bring a few people with me to help."  
  
"Thank you Mr. Smithton." June switched the call off. She decided to go for another scan of the mall. The woman behind the desk continued to page John, and the cops and security guards were chatting amongst themselves. June looked back at the scene, and the old dreadful feelings flooded back into her.  
  
She was alone again. 


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4.  
  
The FBI arrived, Mr. Smithton with three people June didn't recognize. She knew the scene examiner, Dawn DiGiorndo. June showed the photograph around and the three officers set off. June and Mr. Smithton asked people questions who were leaving the mall through the Metro exit.  
  
* * *  
  
Loads of people came through and neither of them had any help. Cathy, Kendra and Connie were going down to the Metro carrying shopping bags. June overheard one of them teasing the other about an Englishman. She stopped them and said, "Hello girls, have you seen this man today?"  
  
The three girls stopped and looked at the photograph. "Oh yeah, we saw him! We helped him get a ticket at the metro station and brought him here. Why, what's he done?" the blonde girl asked.  
  
June eyed them suspiciously. "He has gone missing from the mall. Did you see anything happen to him?"  
  
"No. We just rode along with him to here and dropped him over there by the burger place."  
  
"Did you notice anyone or anything suspicious while you were here today?"  
  
"No. Not at all."  
  
"May I take your names, girls, so I can contact you if we need further information?"  
  
All three girls gave their names and phone numbers. Cathy looked at the photograph wistfully. "I sure hope you find him, he told us he was just married and I feel bad for his wife. He's gorgeous, she's a lucky woman."  
  
June smiled sadly. "Thank you for your time girls."  
  
After a half-hour of unsuccessfully questioning people, their radios crackled. "Come up to the 3rdfloor, car park, we've found a possible clue but need June to confirm."  
  
They made their way up the maze of escalators and walked through the herd of people until they reached the doors to the third floor car park. All three agents were standing around it, and the crime scene examiner was photographing the scene.  
  
"June, look at the envelope. Is that John's handwriting?"  
  
June bent down and studied the beige envelope. The truth hit her hard, like a punch in the stomach. Tears began to form in her eyes and she stood up.  
  
"Yes," she whispered. "That's John's handwriting."  
  
It was overwhelming her, this truth which she wanted to deny but couldn't. There were red petals everywhere , some crumpled plastic wrapping and a stem, separated from it's bud. She felt light-headed and nauseous. Leaning over the side of the cement wall, she was ill. Turning, she looked at her boss.  
  
"Why does it have to happen again?"  
  
Smithton was at a loss for words. He put his arm around her and led her to his car, a few floors down. He phoned up for some more people to scour the mall for evidence, and to interview the sales staff in the shops. The security cameras would have to be viewed. So many things needed to be done, with no idea of the time scale they had in which to do it.  
  
June told him that she was alright to drive. Clearly she wasn't, but he knew better to argue with her at a time like this.  
  
"I'll call you tonight, June, and keep you updated on our progress. And before the idea gets in your head, no, you can't run this investigation. Leave it to me, I'll handle it and we'll make sure he gets back."  
  
June looked pasty. Her eyes were glazed over and she felt completely numb inside. She held out her hand.  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Smithton." They shook hands and he left.  
  
Getting into her car, she backed out, almost running down a pedestrian. June didn't notice. Twice she almost ran the red lights on the way home, her mind a million miles away. She pulled into the driveway and sat there in the car, rocking back and forth in her seat, tears streaming down her eyes. John was gone. She was alone. John was gone and he wasn't coming back. None of them came back. She fought and tried and did the best she could but none of them came back. Now John was gone as well.  
  
* * *  
  
Something skittered over John's hand, tickling the hairs on his arm, causing him to wake up. He jumped, startled, and sunk back down to where he was, fire coursing through his muscles and head. He opened his eyes and slowly, they adjusted to the dark. Small slats of light streamed through a tiny opening in the long, narrow pit he was in. He held onto the greasy wall and almost stood, bending at the neck to accommodate his full frame. His bones creaked and grated against each other, making audible noises. He worked his way over to one of the slits and tried to look out it. He saw some black-grey thing, like machinery, hovering over him. He wasn't entirely sure how it was kept there. John tried to get his hand worked in the slit but didn't manage to get more than a finger through. Feeling his way along the wall, he made his way to the back of the pit. There was some sort of dust on the floor. Feeling it, John assumed it might have been sawdust.  
  
John also felt something wooden in the pit and realised they were steps. He felt towards the top of them and realised there was a sort of trap door there. John attempted to open it with his shoulder but found it locked. John wondered where June was, how long he had been gone for, and if she knew he was missing. He didn't know why the man captured him or if he was going to end up dead. He felt entirely hopeless. Placing his head in his hands he started to weep, silently, to himself until he felt like he was out of energy. Just then, he heard footsteps coming towards him, near the board. John had an idea.  
  
Carefully, he crouched in the darkness, oblivious to the pain it was causing him. He waited until the door opened and his captor made his way down the steps. John pounced on him. Unfortunately the captor was ready for him and succeeded easily in knocking him backwards. John's head ricocheted off of the wall behind him and he laid there, motionless, a thin strand of blood running out of his mouth. The man chuckled to himself, and dropped some chicken bones and a cob that once had corn on it on the ground next to John.  
  
"You better wake up and eat it, you foreign piece of shit, before the rats get it."  
  
The man kicked John in the kneecap. John came to his senses and howled in agony as the bone shattered. The man made his way upstairs, chuckling to himself, and locked the trapdoor behind him.  
  
John started to cry, now, for what seemed like hours. In all the years of being a police officer, and all the things he had been through, he had never lost hope. Now, a stranger in a strange land, unaware of the territory, unsure of what he would do even if he did somehow manage to get free, he felt hope slipping away. He didn't know how much longer he could go on being strong and praying that June would find him. He reached down for the food that was left and his hand came to rest on something furry. He automatically retracted his hand and dragged his bleeding, broken body over to the steps. Resting his head against the wooden frame, he closed his eyes and passed out.  
  
* * *  
  
June walked around her empty, large house looking but not really seeing. Room to room she wandered, among the cloth-covered furniture. The furniture looked like ghosts, which was fitting, as June was feeling slightly haunted. She couldn't eat, couldn't sleep and knew no relief from the fire and anguish that pierced through her brain. She checked the clock quickly and decided that he would still be up. It was time to get some help from England.  
  
"Hello?" Jack Meadows said, picking up the phone and cradling it to his ear, as he fried the mince in his kitchen.  
  
"Hello Jack, this is June Boulton. I'm afraid something horrible has happened."  
  
"What's going on, June? I thought that John and you were in America?"  
  
"We are. I don't quite know how it's happened, but John was abducted. I don't have any idea who would do such a thing but he's gone and I don't know what to do."  
  
"Abducted? John Boulton? I don't believe it!" Jack turned the stove off and sat down. "He's the least likely person to be abducted. The abductor would come away worse than he would."  
  
"I know, I know. It's so strange this whole thing, and I've got such a bad feeling about this."  
  
"Listen, June, it was right of you to let me know this. I need to make a few phone calls. May I call you back?"  
  
"Yes, Jack."  
  
"What's your number over there?"  
  
"001 214 434 8582"  
  
"Right. I'll call you back in a quarter of an hour or so."  
  
"Thanks, Jack."  
  
June hung up and breathed a sigh. She made herself a cup of tea but didn't drink it. She stirred it over and over again, a repeated motion, while she stared off into the distance.  
  
The phone ringing again was a shock to her system, causing her to jump. She picked it up.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"June, it's Jack here. Have you spoke to your governor yet and told him what happened?"  
  
"No, I haven't."  
  
"Well, I've called Mr. Brownlow and we both agreed that myself, and Chris Deakin should come over and help. If nothing else, it's an act of courtesy between your agency and ours. I am right in assuming the FBI is handling the case?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Call your governor and let him know what happened. We'll take it from there."  
  
"Ok Jack. Thank you."  
  
June put down the phone and dumped out her now-cold tea. She called Sir Steven Croft, her governor."  
  
"Hello? Hemel House."  
  
"Hello is Sir Steven Croft available?"  
  
"May I ask who is calling?"  
  
"June Gowan."  
  
"One moment please."  
  
A few seconds passed and then Sir Steven's cultured voice filled her ear.  
  
"June, whatever are you doing calling me on your honeymoon? Is there something the matter?"  
  
"I'm afraid so, sir. I don't know how, or why, but somehow John's gone missing and it looks like he was abducted."  
  
Sir Steven was silent for a moment.  
  
"June. I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry. Is Mr. Smithton dealing with it?"  
  
"Yes he is sir. I've taken the liberty of contacting John's governor and letting him know what happened."  
  
"Yes, well, it's Mr. Jack Meadows, isn't it? Sun Hill police station? Whose his super, is it Chuck Brownlow?"  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"I'll call Mr. Smithton as soon as I get off of the phone with you and let him know the situation. I'll also call Brownlow and make arrangements. I'm sure he's got people in mind to come over. If I could, June, I would come over right now but I'm afraid I just can't at the moment. Please know I'll pray for you and I will keep in touch. If there's anything I can do for you please let me know. You know you're like a daughter to me and it breaks my heart to see this happen to you, after everything else you've been put through."  
  
"Yes sir." June had big tears silently running down her face. "Thank you sir."  
  
"I will call tomorrow. Take care June."  
  
"Goodbye Sir."  
  
June hung up the phone and allowed herself to cry, uncontrollably. Her whole body shook violently as she sobbed. She sniffled, her nose full and still she couldn't stop. Her pain was so deep it almost consumed her.  
  
June went upstairs and looked around the bedroom. John's shirts hung in the closet, still smelling of him. It was a good smell: woody, vanilla. A smell that is peculiarly John. It was straightforward, direct and unpretentious, and although he did wear cologne, it wasn't the smell of his cologne, it was a natural aroma that was natural to John, alone. June put one on, letting his familiar scent somewhat comfort her. She laid down in bed. Sobbing into her pillow, she nestled herself in the unmade part of the bed where John had laid the night before.  
  
June must have cried herself to sleep, for she didn't remember drifting off. But somehow time had spun forward because it was 9:30 am. She didn't feel like she had slept at all, though. She felt a strange sensation coarse through her body and realised that her body was pulsing in tune with the telephone ringing in the next room. She quickly got up and ran for it.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"June, it's Smithton. How are you?"  
  
"Tired. As best as can be expected."  
  
"We've got some good news - a possible lead. Forensics identified the vehicle from the tyre marks found on the envelope. There were some paint chips left on the ground as well. Plus, we questioned the people in the toll booths at the exit of the car park and we were able to get a description of the man.  
  
"That's fantastic!"  
  
"Don't get too excited. We're trying to compare his description with known offenders. Also the girl who identified him is coming down to do a composite. Until that's done we really have little hope of finding him. Have you watched the news?"  
  
"No. Are the police doing an appeal?"  
  
"Yes, so far they've had a couple hundred calls, as per usual, but no tangible leads. Once the composite is done we can stick that up and get something good off of it hopefully."  
  
"What can I do?" June twisted the phone cord around her fingers, absently.  
  
"Well, some of John's colleagues are on their way over - can you deal with them while we conduct the investigation?"  
  
"Sir, with all due respect, I have worked with the people coming over and I can positively assure you that they are very fine officers and can help in the investigation."  
  
"June, I don't want foreign officers involved - they're too much time and trouble to learn the ropes and by the time we're done teaching them, the case will be over. It's a professional courtesy to invite them over, your Sir Steven Croft made that point very clear, and so we have to have them. But I don't want them involved. The last thing I need is the liability of two people who mean well but aren't trained."  
  
"Sir, I think you're being terribly unfair." June was beginning to get angry. It was sheer stubbornness and laziness on Smithton's part that he was acting this way. The FBI had foreign officers in all the time. June couldn't understand what his problem was. After all, he was usually fair about things, and had treated her good and reasonably before. He was acting differently towards her, she noticed, and couldn't understand why.  
  
"And I think that I'm in charge and have the final say. You are to keep them busy, show them the sights, keep them out of trouble and leave the real job of finding your husband to the people who know what they're doing and who aren't clouded by emotion."  
  
"Yes sir," June said, defeated.  
  
"They'll be at Dulles at 4:45, British Airways Flight 313. Get them. I don't know if they have accommodation but I know you've got room at your place. The agency can't afford to put them up in a five-star hotel."  
  
"Sir!" June said, her tone of voice bordering on outrage.  
  
"That will be all. Goodbye June."  
  
June slammed down the phone. How dare he talk to her that way? June wasn't used to being on the receiving end of orders, she preferred to either give them, or discuss them with her superiors before giving them. Receiving was a whole different story, and something she hadn't done in years.  
  
With a sigh, she got up and went through the motions of getting dressed. She could hardly believe that it was yesterday that John was here, larger than life, chasing her around the rooms of the house. She knew she had to work through this just like before, the pain, the confusion and the anxiety needed to be set aside. To save John she would need to be objective. She would also need to break some rules. 


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5.  
  
John felt something dripping on him. It smelled strong and awful and felt greasy to his touch. He thought for a few minutes and discerned that it was motor oil. He figured that the thing above him, holding the boards in place, was a bus or lorry of some sort. Every time the thing fired up he felt faint, and realised it was the carbon monoxide from the exhaust that was cutting off his oxygen. He figured that he was being held in a service pit of a maintenance garage of some sort. Beyond that, he couldn't tell where he was. It had been hours since his captor was back Every time his captor came down, he kicked and beat John some more, calling him a foreign scumbag ruining America and turning American women into whores. John couldn't believe that people actually thought that way in this day in age, especially seeing as the United States and England were practically sister nations.  
  
The trap door swung open, almost blinding John with the light. He felt his whole body tense up, preparing for the beating. His ribs ached and grated together from where they were swollen, and his groin was extremely sore. He was sure that his ankle was shattered as well as his right arm being broken.  
  
"Here's your dinner. Enjoy it, your days are numbered."  
  
John's throat was dry and felt like sandpaper. His tongue almost filled his whole mouth, from it being bitten by accident during the kickings.  
  
"What. what do you mean?" John managed to say.  
  
"I mean, I'm gonna kill you. I'm going to make an example out of you for the whole world to see and for the women of America to take note of. Every day I see beautiful American women with you foreign scumbags coming into the country. I've had enough of watching American women become whores to you filthy slime bags that just want an easy visa and a lifetime living in the best damn country in the world. Me, and my people, the National Front for American Supremacy, will take back this country from the hands of you leeches."  
  
"No... no you've got it wrong. I'm not like that.I don't want to be an American."  
  
"Of course you do, why else would you marry an American?"  
  
"I love my wife." John started to cry, weeping violently with his whole body. The pain he felt was no match to the pain in his heart.  
  
"I love my wife, I love my wife." John trailed off, tears rolling down his cheek.  
  
The man looked at John for a moment, and raised his fist. He brought it down into John's face. John's head ricocheted off of the concrete wall and he lay there, still, not moving, or making a sound. The man watched John for a moment to make sure he was silent.  
  
The man shook his head, walked up the staircase, and shut the trap door, locking it.  
  
* * *  
  
June was waiting at the customs gate for Jack Meadows and Chris Deakin. She knew Jack fairly well, as they spoke at length during the Escoverda case. Chris, on the other hand, was off on leave during that time, and she had met Geoff Daly as acting DI. The wedding was the first time she met Chris, and while she thought he was charming, she could tell that John was less than enthusiastic about his governor. She didn't reckon, however, that John would be impressed with anyone who would have the unfortunate task of being his governor. John liked to do things John's own way.  
  
She waited for about twenty minutes. People were coming through in waves, as they did when the planes let off. The big brown doors opened up and a group of people came through. She recognized Jack instantly and smiled. Jack clocked her, and him and Chris walked over.  
  
"June. Words can't express how sorry I am." She kissed Jack on the cheek, and turned to Chris.  
  
"I'm so sorry we have to be seeing each other again under these circumstances." June gave Chris a kiss on his cheek.  
  
Chris smiled, and said, "He's a strong man, June. He'll fight his way through whatever they're doing to him."  
  
"I know he will. He's got steel in his spine."  
  
She motioned them outside towards the parking lot. "Shall we go then?"  
  
They picked up their suitcases and followed her towards her car.  
  
"Do you have accommodation?" June asked Jack, unlocking her car.  
  
"No. we were told you would have details about it."  
  
"My boss told me that you were staying at my place."  
  
"June we couldn't possibly do that. We'll get a hotel and charge it back to the Met."  
  
"Don't be silly. I've got plenty of room at my house, plus I really could use more people in the house." The lie sounded a bit hollow escaping from her lips, but she smiled to reinforce it.  
  
"Are you sure, June?"  
  
She hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. It's alright."  
  
She told them everything she knew about the case on the way home, however, she didn't mention what her boss said about keeping them out of the loop. She could see Chris yawning in the back seat. June knew they needed a rest.  
  
Pulling into the driveway, she could tell that Jack and Chris were duly impressed by her house. They unloaded their cases from the boot, and she went to unlock the door and key off the alarm.  
  
"Your house is absolutely beautiful, June." Chris said, as he walked in, scanning the front parlour.  
  
"Thank you Chris," June said.  
  
"Right, I trust both of you want a lay-down and a wash," June led the way upstairs.  
  
She opened the door to the master bedroom, of which she had put sheets on the bed earlier. "Right, Jack, this can be your room. You can use the en- suite; I've stuck some clean towels in. If you need anything, let me know."  
  
"This is absolutely great, June. Thanks."  
  
Leading the way down the hall, she opened the door to the guest room. "Chris, this is your room. The loo is the second door on the right."  
  
"Thank you June. Chris smiled at her and she almost burst into tears."  
  
Chris noticed that June was very close to crying. He put his arm around her and hugged her.  
  
"It's alright, ssh. We'll find him for you," Chris soothed.  
  
June pulled away, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, in an attempt to keep a strong face.  
  
"Right. we'll have dinner at 7:00. In the meantime I'm going to go check in with headquarters. Get some rest."  
  
June turned around and went downstairs. Chris looked after, his heart breaking for her.  
  
* * *  
  
John had ripped the sleeve from his shirt and used it to band his ribs with. His ankle was paining him, but without a decent bit of wood or something solid to use as a splint, he was going to have to deal with it. He had felt around in the dark and found a metal exhaust pipe that had been left in the pit. The next time the man came to beat him, John was ready.  
  
* * *  
  
June was startled by a knock on her front door. Rising from the couch where she had been sitting, staring into space, she peeked through the curtains. Two men suits. Agents. They have come to question her. Sighing, she undid the lock on the door, and opened it.  
  
"Special Agent Gowan?" one of the men asked.  
  
"Yes. And who are you boys?"  
  
"I'm Special Agent Thompson and this is Special Agent Hobbs."  
  
Hobbs flashed his badge. "That's unnecessary. Weren't you in my class in the academy?"  
  
Hobbs took off his sunglasses, and stared at her.  
  
"I thought it was you, June!"  
  
"Well, how many Special Agent June Gowans are there in Arlington?"  
  
Hobbs laughed. "I suppose it was just me being stupid, really, that the name didn't click!"  
  
"Right, and I must get my name changed too.. I'm Special Agent Boulton now."  
  
Hobbs smiled. "I heard you got married. There's a shock," and in a lower voice he said, "Have you visited Thomas?"  
  
"Not since I've been home." June smiled politely, and resented every minute of these two boring louts being in her home. Terry Hobbs was always a jerk, who was constantly trying to get in her pants all through the academy. She didn't know the other one, but figured he must not be all that great if he's on routine questioning operations with Hobbs.  
  
Hobbs and Thompson came in, and sat down, expectant of the offer of a cup of coffee. When it didn't come, they exchanged looks and Hobbs rooted through his suitcase.  
  
"Right, June.. we're here to question you about the. oh." Hobbs said, looking through his paperwork.  
  
June slightly enjoyed seeing his uncomfortable squirming in response to the smart comment he made only seconds earlier.  
  
"..About the abduction of my husband from Pentagon City Mall?"  
  
There were footfalls on the staircase. Jack Meadows was coming downstairs.  
  
June stood up, and greeted Jack, "Terry, this is Detective Chief Inspector Jack Meadows from the Metropolitan Police. Seeing as him and his associate Detective Inspector Chris Deakin are over from London to assist the investigation, I would appreciate if one of them sat in on the interview."  
  
June turned to a confused Jack and said, "Would you like a cup of coffee, sir?"  
  
"Yeah." Jack said, rubbing his eyes.  
  
June walked into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Returning to the living room, she sat next to Jack on the sofa.  
  
"Shall we proceed, then, gentlemen?"  
  
They proceeded to question June about the events which happened when she dropped John off at the Metro stop, the phone call he made, and what happened when she got to the mall. June could have predicted just what they were going to ask her, and was growing bored. After 15 minutes of rehashing the same old story, which June only tolerated for Jack's benefit, the two agents stood to leave.  
  
Jack said, "Hold on a minute," and both agents were startled to hear him speak, with his deep Yorkshire accent.  
  
"June, did anyone know you were coming over?"  
  
"Um.. Sir Steven Croft, Mr. Smithton. and anyone that John told."  
  
"Assuming John told only family, us, and any close friends."  
  
June interrupted, "John's close friends are all work related."  
  
Jack smiled, "I figured as much. If that's the case, though, it would have to be someone who holds a grudge against either of you."  
  
"Right," June said, "I know there's millions of people who hold a grudge against John. Thankfully most of them are banged up." June and Jack chuckled while the two agents looked on, bewildered.  
  
"As far as I go. well, the only person who I believe to have a grudge against me was Escoverda, and he's dead."  
  
"Would any of his associates come after you, do you think?"  
  
"No. He didn't trust too many people. His empire, I believe, died with him."  
  
"I don't see how anyone out to get John would have gotten the address of this place, let alone had the connections to get a kidnapping arranged in America, which narrows the field down to people here in America."  
  
"Well, I don't know many people over here in the US. Most of my old friends have moved on and I've lost touch with them."  
  
"Let me think. Is there anyone perhaps on the airplane or at the airports that could have known where you were going?"  
  
"Hmm. We didn't speak to anyone at Heathrow. We didn't speak to anyone except the flight attendants on the plane. And at Dulles, we were straight through customs and out again."  
  
"Wait a minute, June. Your customs form needed an address on it, so did John's visa waiver form. Do you think it could have been a customs officer?"  
  
The agents interrupted, "That's impossible, our customs officers wouldn't do such a thing."  
  
June was silent for a second. She looked at the agents and spoke, "Right, I'm calling Mr. Smithton with this theory."  
  
The two agents shifted uncomfortably in their seats. June picked up the phone, dialling Smithton.  
  
"Hello sir, it's June."  
  
"June, did the British guys arrive?"  
  
"Yes sir, they're here at my house."  
  
"Good."  
  
"Sir, the reason I'm calling is because during the course of the interview Hobbs and Thompson were giving me, DCI Meadows and I came up with the idea to perhaps investigate the INS and Customs staff that were on duty that night. They would have seen the address from John's green card or the customs form. Other than that, there is no one who would have known who we were, or that we lived in the area."  
  
"June, we've already ruled out the possibility that it was someone you would have ran into. Do you honestly think that someone from Customs or INS would be a kidnapper? Get real. We're running checks about random kidnappings over the eastern seaboard."  
  
"Sir, with all due respect."  
  
"June, let me tell you something, I'm getting tired of solving crimes related to your personal life. No one here at the agency minded the first time, but it's beginning to seem that you attract this stuff."  
  
"Sir, that is an outrageous claim to make! I highly object to that statement."  
  
"Well, we're doing the best we can down here. Leave the detecting to us detectives, and you and the Brits go have a good time."  
  
"Sir, I hope you don't mind but I'm going to conduct my own investigation. I, with the most respect, do not agree with the way you are conducting this investigation and am going to pursue my own lines of inquiry."  
  
"Fine, June. Just don't expect a lot of backup. Try not to ruin your career just because you're too stubborn not to leave the detective work to those who aren't emotionally involved."  
  
Smithton hung up. June was seething.  
  
Going back into the living room she said, "Right boys, playtime's over. Go on back home now."  
  
The two agents got up silently and left. June looked at Jack.  
  
"I think you better tell me what's going on, June."  
  
June sighed heavily. "Right, Jack. The long and short of it is that Smithton, my boss here in America, was very sympathetic to me up until this situation. For some reason, he's gotten angry at me because I want involved in the investigation, instead of leaving it all in the agency's hands, and keeping myself out of the loop. Furthermore, he doesn't want to have to bother with you or Chris, and wants to keep it all in-agency. From what I can gather from this conversation, there is talk within the agency that I'm becoming a liability, even."  
  
Jack absorbed this in, and June continued, "I cannot, and will not sit by the phone waiting for information. I'm an agent, the same as any other one. Furthermore, I know that you and Chris are very capable detectives and will be an asset to this case. If Smithton won't provide the adequate backup, we can do this ourselves."  
  
Jack nodded and sipped the coffee that June had made for him. "How do we begin to track down who may have been in customs?"  
  
"Simple, I call Dulles INS/Treasury Services to get a roster. We can go from there."  
  
* * *  
  
John heard the footfalls above him. He went to the far end of the pit to make the man come in to find him. There would be less chance of the man detecting that John had a weapon that way. The trapdoor latch was sprung and it opened. The man descended the staircase.  
  
"Where are you, you piece of shit?"  
  
John was silent. The man walked slowly towards him, unable to see in the darkness. John felt him getting closer.  
  
The man had a hand outstretched in front of him. John felt the man's fingertips brush against him and struck out.  
  
The pipe made solid contact against the man's skull. John administered two solid blows and the man was down on the floor. Dropping the pipe, John quickly felt down the man and found his wallet. Holding onto the wall, he stepped around the man and up the staircase. He was free!  
  
The light blinded John. He was unaware of how many days he had been down in the pit, but every single moment felt like an eternity. John was disorientated. Looking behind him, he saw what vehicle had been parked above him. It was a yellow school bus, as seen in so many American films. John had never seen one up close before but was chilled to think that it had been his captor. There were two large sheets of plywood covering up the pit, with the bus parked on top of it, holding it in place. John staggered out of the bay of the garage into a parking lot. It looked as if it had once been a major bus depot, but now was completely deserted, and by the state of the building, it was apparent that it had been deserted for many years. There was a narrow road off to the right. John staggered towards it. 


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
  
Jack, Chris and June were discussing possible strategies over plates of spaghetti bolognaise. Since Smithton made it clear that they would be getting no help from the agency, they decided to go it alone.  
  
"Right," Jack said, "We're working from the theory that it was someone either from INS or customs that would have seen either John's visa waiver form or the white customs declaration. What information is on those forms?"  
  
"Name, address, family members travelling with you, countries you've visited, flight details, and record of purchases for the customs form, on the visa waiver its name, address, a small questionnaire on the back. I think that's it, really."  
  
"Right, so it could have either been the INS officer you saw, the one he saw, or the customs woman."  
  
"Man. it was a man on customs."  
  
Chris and Jack exchanged looks. "It was a woman when we went through."  
  
"Ok. So we're looking for a male INS officer, a male customs officer or a male or female INS officer working the international desks."  
  
"Do you know what, June, if he had gotten your address, in order for him to find John at the mall he must have stalked you both. It's even possible he staked out the house here." Chris said.  
  
June felt a pang of anxiety in her gut. "Chris, you may be right. And there may even be some forensic."  
  
They got up and went outside. It was 7:30 PM but because it was summer, it was still light outside. June traced along the property edge. Chris examined around the house and Jack looked along the edge of the trees that lined the property.  
  
"June, Jack!" Chris shouted. They walked over.  
  
There in the mud, along the side of the house was a large trainer print. June grabbed onto Jack's arm. "He was here. I don't believe it, he was here."  
  
"Now hold on a second June, could it possibly be anyone else?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Who maintains the lawn here?"  
  
"Lawn service, but they have a uniform and wear wellies, not trainers."  
  
"There is no way it could be anyone else?"  
  
"No, Jack."  
  
June flipped open her mobile phone, and phoned for a forensic scene examiner to come down. 15 minutes later Dawn DiGiorndo, the same examiner who did the abduction scene showed up, saying that Smithton was on his way over as well. She roped off the area around the print and began to prepare to remove the print for further examination.  
  
"Does this print make any sense, Dawn?" June asked.  
  
"Well. I can't speak on the record June. but off the record I would say it's the same shoe and size from the partial print we got from the car park."  
  
June looked at Jack and Chris, "We're on the right track, I know it."  
  
Smithton pulled up and got out. He strode over across the lawn towards June, Jack and Chris.  
  
"Ah, Mr. Smithton, may I introduce you to Detective Chief Inspector Jack Meadows and Detective Inspector Chris Deakin, Metropolitan Police?"  
  
Smithton flashed a plastic smile and shook their hands. "June, may I speak with you please?"  
  
They walked over out of earshot; Jack and Chris began conferring.  
  
"June..." Smithton began, "If this turns out to be nothing, I'm afraid I'm going to have to suspend you until this investigation is over."  
  
"Sir, I think you'll find it's a little more than nothing. Miss DiGiorndo just told me, unofficially, of course, that the print matches the ones found at the abduction scene."  
  
"If that's so, then June, listen to me, you must leave this investigation in my hands. I don't want a major breach in security being revealed to those foreign cops."  
  
"But sir, Regardless of what the outcome of this case is, the simple fact is that one of their co-workers, a police officer, was abducted within two days of being in the United States. The fact that you don't want to include them in the case, combined with this even happening in the first place, makes everyone look bad. Now's not the time for a cover up to make us all smell like roses. Now is the time for all of us to pull together to find my husband. And once this print gets verified, as I sincerely believe it will be, I think that perhaps you may want to give Meadows and Deakin a chance. At least we're on the right track now, and it's because of them that we are."  
  
Smithton looked at June for a long minute. He shook his head and said, "If I end up regretting this, as I said earlier, your job hangs in the balance. Understood?"  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
Smithton walked towards Jack and Chris. June let herself in the house. She went upstairs to her bedroom taking her handbag with her. Opening it up, she took out a picture of John and her, and let the tears come.  
  
* * *  
  
John stumbled down the road past a white house and came to an intersection. There was a large red barn across the road and up a way. Horses trotted along the field. It seemed like he was in a sort of residential area. A car rushed past him, going quite quickly on what seemed to be the wrong side of the road to him. He decided to follow in the direction of the car.  
  
Every step was agony for John, and although it was only about a quarter of a mile that John walked, it took him about a half hour. He almost passed out from the pain about three times. John passed a cemetery and found a petrol station with a shop. The shop had written on the outside, "Ambridge Superette," in big white letters.  
  
'Ambridge.' John thought, 'Why does that sound familiar?'  
  
John headed towards the shop. Blood was pouring down a cut on his face, and he could hardly see. His vision was blurred, and he felt light-headed.  
  
He pushed open the door. A fat middle aged lady was behind the counter.  
  
"Jesus Christ are you alright?" She asked, coming out from behind the counter.  
  
"Help... help me..." John managed to croak out.  
  
The last thing he remembered was falling into a rack of bread.  
  
When he awoke, a bright light was flashing in his eyes. He groaned and tried to move.  
  
"Hello," a soothing voice said, "Welcome back. You've had a hard time of it, fella, but you're going to be alright now."  
  
"W.w...w.wh..." John tried to put together a sentence.  
  
"Who am I?" the voice pre-empted. "I'm Dr. Matheison. You're in the hospital. Can you tell me who you are?"  
  
A shadow began to come together. John could make out a white coat. He tried to raise his hand but realised it had a drip in it. He could feel a plaster cast on his ankle and that his ribs were taped. His face ached in places.  
  
"Boulton. John Boulton." John said, a bit stronger.  
  
"You're not from around here, are you, Mr. Boulton?" Dr. Matheison said. "Are you from England?"  
  
John nodded as best as he could.  
  
"Can you tell me why you're here?"  
  
".Wife. Where's my wife?"  
  
"Who is your wife, Mr. Boulton?"  
  
"June."  
  
"June.?" The doctor said, as John drifted back into unconsciousness.  
  
The doctor went out into the hall, where two police officers were waiting.  
  
"He just came around. His name is John Boulton and he's from England. His wife's name is June but he didn't say where she was. No idea on the wallet as he's unconscious again."  
  
"Right, we'll call Arlington County Police and let them know that a wallet has turned up here in Pennsylvania. See what they want us to do with him and the wallet. Make sure he doesn't go anywhere."  
  
"Oh I don't think that will be a worry, officers. He can barely talk let alone move. He'll be here at least for the foreseeable future."  
  
"Good. We won't need to take a man off of RGD's to keep an eye on him then."  
  
"RGD's, officers?"  
  
"Revenue Generating Duties - you know, speed traps?"  
  
"Oh." The doctor rolled his eyes, "Good."  
  
The cops turned and waddled away. Dr. Matheison mumbled, "Stupid cops," under his breath.  
  
About six hours later John came back into consciousness. He was alone in a hospital room. Slowly things flooded back to him, the man, the superette, the doctor.  
  
John started shouting as best as he could, "Sister! Sister! Hello? Sister!"  
  
A large black nurse poked her head through the door, "What are you shouting about, it's two in the morning!"  
  
"Sister..," John said weakly, "Where am I?"  
  
"I'm not your sister, don't you be calling me sister. Who do you think you are, Barry White?"  
  
John realised his mistake, "Forgive me. in my country we call our nurses sister."  
  
The nurse's hard features softened. "You're from England, right?"  
  
"Yes," John croaked out.  
  
"Always wanted to go to England. My cousin's been there. She had a blast."  
  
John smiled weakly.  
  
"Well, between you and me, there's a lot of people who want to know what's happened to you. We've had reporters calling on the phone and down here to see you." The nurse checked his drip; seeing it almost empty, she switched it off, and went to get another bag.  
  
Returning in the room, she busied herself with changing over John's drip.  
  
"What do they want?" he asked.  
  
"Hmmm?"  
  
"The reporters. what do they want?"  
  
"Honey, it's not every day a half-dead man drags himself in a superette, and collapses with nothing on him but someone else's wallet. In a place like this, it's big news."  
  
"But, this is Washington DC."  
  
The nurse laughed, "No it's not, it's Ambridge, Pennsylvania."  
  
John reached over and put his hand on the nurse's arm. She took his hand and held it.  
  
"Nurse... you must listen... I need to get to Washington. My wife is in Washington."  
  
"You're not going anywhere, child, at least, not until the police are done with you."  
  
"What do the police want?"  
  
"That wallet you had on you, they want to know where you got it."  
  
John started to get agitated, "I was. I was kidnapped. I got free and took my kidnapper's wallet with me. Please, please call my wife. She's an FBI agent. They're probably looking for me."  
  
The nurse slipped a syringe out of her pocket, pre-filled with morphine. She went to inject it into his drip.  
  
John squeezed the nurse's hand and looked deep into her eyes. "Please, call my wife. Her name is June Gowan. She's FBI. She lives in Arlington, Virginia, 1741 North Glebe Avenue. Just call the FBI and tell them I'm here. Please."  
  
The nurse looked at him, "I'll see what I can do, child. You relax. Nurse Selynn will see what she can manage." She injected the morphine into his drip and he drifted off to sleep.  
  
The nurse studied him for a moment. 'Handsome man,' she thought, 'too bad about the stitches, and the broken nose.'  
  
About a half-hour later, Nurse Selynn had finished her rounds. Cracking open a can of diet Coke, she sat in her chair in the ward. She couldn't get that man's face out of her mind, and was worried about him. She picked up the phone and dialled 411.  
  
"Information, what name please?"  
  
"Yes, I'm looking for a June Gowan in Arlington Virginia. 1741 North Glebe Avenue."  
  
"I'm afraid that number is private."  
  
"This is an emergency - I'm a nurse and I have a patient here who says he's her husband. You can use your caller ID to see that I am calling from Ambridge Hospital, nurse station 434."  
  
A second paused, "I can't give you the number but I can put the call through for you."  
  
"Thank you ma'am."  
  
* * *  
  
June was getting ready for bed. She was setting a glass of water on her nightstand, and turned down the bed. A knock on the door startled her.  
  
"Come in," she called out.  
  
The door opened. Chris came in.  
  
"I just wanted to tell you what Smithton said, June, after you left. Jack thought it was best to leave you alone for a while."  
  
June felt a million miles away. Chris's eyes came to rest on her pistol, on top of her dresser.  
  
"Nice piece. I've not handled a gun since my training."  
  
"Go ahead and pick it up if you want, it's not loaded, and the safety's on."  
  
"No thanks, if it's all the same to you, I'm uncomfortable handling guns."  
  
June picked it up, and force of habit caused her to open the barrel to check if there were any bullets left in there. Seeing it empty she closed the barrel and practiced quick-firing it.  
  
"I was the best gun handler out of the female agents when I graduated training. I had real strength in my hands. I'm afraid I'm terribly out of practice. As you know, I don't carry in the UK."  
  
Chris watched her and listened to the click-click of the hammer going down and the trigger clicking.  
  
"Smithton said that we were to report down to FBI headquarters tomorrow to get some temporary ID's and to go over files. He also offered to put us up in a hotel."  
  
"What did you say to that?" June asked, inspecting the engraving on the side of the barrel of her gun.  
  
"Jack and I have talked about this, and seeing as you don't really have anyone who could come stay, we felt that it would probably be good for us to stay with you, at least, to give you some support."  
  
June put the gun down and smiled at Chris, "Thanks, that means a lot to me."  
  
June sat on the bed next to Chris. He patted her hand and she smiled at him.  
  
"I was off on a holiday for a few months when you came and worked in Sun Hill. One of the first things I was told, when I got back, was that there was something up with John. 'What's new?' I thought to myself."  
  
Chris chuckled and June smiled, "But, it wasn't the normal John. He was...very sad. More aggressive than usual. Even in his dealings with suspects he would still put the same sort of dogged work into cases but it was different. He was harsher about things.  
  
"And then, I think it was Don Beech, told me about you and him working together, and that he was in love with you but you were in America and he didn't know if you would ever come back. I can assure you, June, you never were out of his thoughts.  
  
"Then you showed up at the Christmas do' and I think every man in the room fell in love with you when you walked in. Since then, it's changed John into a veritable pussycat compared with what he used to be. Don't get me wrong, I still wouldn't want to be a suspect on one of his cases, but he's more professional, more human and easier to work with. I think you've had that influence on him."  
  
"Besides," Chris laughed, "He allowed your picture on his desk, which is the only personal item I've ever seen John put up. That's got to say something in itself."  
  
June burst out laughing. Chris put his arm around her, "See, that's better."  
  
June gave Chris a hug. "Thanks Chris," she said.  
  
"It'll get better, he'll be home soon," Chris said, getting up to leave. "Goodnight June."  
  
"Goodnight Chris."  
  
June drifted off to sleep, thinking about dancing in the moonlight reflected off of the Thames, in John's warm and safe arms.  
  
Around 3:30 AM, the phone rang loudly throughout the house. June fumbled in the dark to find it. Her heart was thumping loudly in her chest.  
  
'They've found him... they've found him and he's turned up dead, they've found him.' Her thoughts rushed through her head.  
  
"Hello" June said. Her throat was dry and her stomach felt like a pit.  
  
"Hello, is this a Misses June Gowan?"  
  
"Yes, speaking."  
  
"Misses Gowan, this is Nurse Selynn Jones, from Ambridge Hospital near Pittsburgh Pennsylvania. The reason that I'm calling is that we have a man claiming to be your husband here."  
  
"John? John's with you? Is he alright, is he alright; oh my god is he alright?" June's eyes went wide  
  
"He's fine, ma'am. He's got a concussion, some broken ribs, a broken ankle, and a broken nose. He's had some stitches on his face, and lost a lot of blood, but otherwise it's just bruising. He should be ok."  
  
June started to cry, "Oh my God."  
  
"Ma'am? Are you alright?"  
  
"Yes, He's alright, he's alright. oh thank God he's alright," June wept in relief.  
  
"Ma'am? What is your husband doing here anyway?"  
  
"He was kidnapped five days ago."  
  
"Kidnapped?" The nurse raised her eyebrows. Things were beginning to make sense to her.  
  
"Yes... kidnapped."  
  
"Right," Nurse Selynn paused.  
  
"I'll be up as soon as I can be. I'll get the first flight to Pittsburgh and be there. Thank you for calling."  
  
"You're welcome. Goodnight."  
  
"Goodnight."  
  
The phone call had awoken Jack and Chris. Both of them were in her room. She turned and looked at them.  
  
"He's alive and safe!" she exclaimed, joyfully, through the tears that were streaming down her face.  
  
Jack and Chris smiled, and each of them said a silent prayer. June, on the other hand, was already on the phone calling Smithton with the news. 


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7.  
  
6:30 AM, the grass fresh with dew, June, Jack and Chris pulled into the FBI Academy at Quantico, Virginia. June flashed her badge and the gates opened for her. She hadn't been here in many years, but still remembered her way around. A new building was being built where the rifle ranges were, and she could only assume they had been moved elsewhere. Otherwise, everything was the same, right down to the trainees doing push ups in the mud along the side of the road they drove down. The helicopter, large and green, loomed large in their vision.  
  
Smithton was standing outside of it. She parked her car, and the three of them got out, clutching McDonalds coffees in their hands.  
  
Smithton nodded in greeting and began, "Ambridge Pennsylvania is 20 miles northwest of Pittsburgh. We have arranged to land on the football field at the local High School and have a transfer to the hospital. We've also got a bed at Arlington Hospital for John, and will have him life-flighted down here."  
  
"Thank you sir." June said. They got into the chopper and it lifted off.  
  
"Still, we're no closer to locating the person who kidnapped John in the first place. Whoever it was, presumably John fought his way free. Kidnappers don't usually drop their victims at the hospital once they've had enough," Jack volunteered.  
  
"I've got a list of people who were on duty at Dulles INS/Customs that night." Smithton handed it back to June. Jack was sitting across from her and he leaned over to examine it.  
  
"Right, the customs officer, Douglas Payne, needs to be put on the list. I went through desk 3 on the US Citizen side, and that was Charles Listor. Luckily for us, there were only four officers on duty for the foreign citizens' side."  
  
Smithton spoke into his mobile phone, reading the names out of the officers he needed checks for.  
  
"They'll compile addresses and records for them. I'll send around some officers to interview them all."  
  
"Thank you sir."  
  
They made some small talk on the way there. It was only a 45 minute flight. They flew over the city of Pittsburgh and June marvelled at the pretty skyline. She was able to point out some landmarks, like the Golden Triangle where the Monongahela River and the Allegheny River met to form the Ohio River. She pointed out Three Rivers Stadium where the Pittsburgh Steelers played football.  
  
Shortly after that, they descended down onto the football field. It was not the nicest high school she had ever seen, but their field made a good helicopter pad. The four of them got out of the chopper and an escort was waiting for them.  
  
"I'm Special Agent Pruszynski. Welcome to Pittsburgh. Right this way." He led them through the field and the gates.  
  
There was a large black Chevrolet Suburban waiting. Pruszynski opened the door for June to get in. He drove them to the hospital. June gave Chris' hand a squeeze. She was feeling nervous for some reason that she couldn't figure out. After all, he was safe and alive.  
  
John was in the intensive care unit, second floor. They took the lift up to the lobby where they changed for the lift to the second floor. Getting out of the lift, there were some police officers waiting for them.  
  
"Are you Mrs. Boulton?" The shorter officer asked her, with some menace.  
  
"Yes, Officer, I'm Special Agent Boulton, FBI." June flashed her badge.  
  
"Uh. alright. Them guys didn't tell us yinz were no FBI agents." The two officers looked at each other, clearly out of their league.  
  
Smithton stepped in, "I'm Inspector James Smithton, FBI. Why don't we let Special Agent Boulton see her husband and I can try to answer any questions you may have." Smithton led them out of the way. June, Jack and Chris went into the unit, stopping at the nurses' station.  
  
"Hi, I'm June Gowan; I'm looking for John Boulton?"  
  
"Room 104. He's probably still asleep. Only two at a time, though, in the room," the nurse on duty said.  
  
"You go in on your own, June. Chris and I can wait," Jack said.  
  
"There's a waiting room down the hall to your left," the nurse said.  
  
Jack and Chris paused at the doorway. June smiled at both of them and walked in. It was very quiet in the room. She could see the cast on his leg, and then saw his poor face, with stitches zigzagging his left cheek, and forehead. His nose had a splint on it. There was some swelling around his right eye that was black and blue. June had to fight back the tears, looking at him like that. She sat down on the chair next to his bed and slipped her hand underneath his, and started to cry.  
  
John heard a noise in the room. He smelled a familiar smell. Something was underneath his hand. Squeezing it told him all he needed to know.  
  
"June." John whispered.  
  
June stood up, and leaned over him. "John, are you awake?"  
  
John opened his eyes as best as he could, "June. you're here."  
  
"Yes John." June said, sniffing.  
  
"Don't cry, June. I'm alright. We'll be alright."  
  
"John, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't go with you. I'm sorry."  
  
"Ssh. don't be sorry. you're alright, love."  
  
A knock on the door caused June to jump, a bit startled.  
  
"May I come in," Smithton asked.  
  
"Sure. John, this is Inspector James Smithton, my boss."  
  
Smithton smiled, "John, I need to know exactly what happened to you, from the time you were taken from Pentagon City until now."  
  
John coughed slightly. A nurse came in the room.  
  
"You all have to leave now, for a few minutes, while I change his drip."  
  
June and Smithton got up and walked out. She could hear the nurse talking to John and his voice, low and gravely, responding.  
  
Jack and Chris walked up from the waiting room, "How is he, June?"  
  
"Well, he looks pretty bad but I think he's alright. I think he just needs to rest and heal."  
  
"Right. We'll go in next." Smithton started to protest but June interrupted, "Do you want to get a cup of coffee, sir?"  
  
June walked with Smithton down to the end of the hall and into the waiting room.  
  
"How are you, June?" He asked, softening towards her.  
  
"Well, upset, naturally. He looks bad, doesn't he?"  
  
"Yeah. It must be hard for you to see him that way."  
  
"Well, considering the circumstances, I'm just happy to be seeing him at all, really."  
  
A silence settled in on the end of June's last comment.  
  
June fed some coins in a vending machine and got a cake wrapped in plastic. She broke a bit of it off, and stuffed it into her mouth.  
  
"Sir. with all due respect, may I know why you've been very short with me regarding this whole situation?"  
  
"June, I don't really want to talk about it."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Smithton paused, as if he wanted to say something.  
  
"You know. when you came home from England last time, I had hoped that, maybe, you would have wanted to get to know me a little better."  
  
"Pardon?" June asked, not quite believing what she was hearing.  
  
"I've been your boss for years, June. I've watched you since before you and Thomas were a couple, and I always wondered what Thomas had that I didn't. It could have been me, you know, instead of Thomas."  
  
June was flabbergasted. She didn't know what to say.  
  
Smithton continued, "After he got shot, it was such a tragedy, and I knew that I didn't stand a chance with you. We managed to get you out of America before Escoverda murdered you, and I wasn't sure if you would ever be able to come home and I tried to put you out of my mind. Then I got word that you had caught him, and were coming home. I was so excited to see you, and I was certain that we could have been together then. But no, you had someone else in your heart, you had met someone else. If you had only given me a chance, June! What do you want with some foreign guy? I could make you happier than he ever could!"  
  
"Mr. Smithton, sir.," June began, "James. I had no idea you felt this way. I'm sorry if I've hurt you. You have to understand, sir, it wasn't meant to be. If we were ever meant to be a couple, it would have happened, but it didn't. I don't know who is to blame if anyone, but I'm happy with John. I love John very much and to me he is no different than anyone else. I know he's English, I know Jack and Chris are English, and me, I feel more at home with them than I do when I'm at home. I'm sorry sir, but to me, one's nationality doesn't determine one's self-worth and capabilities."  
  
"I know, I'm sorry. June, please, I'll try to do my best to accept your husband, and his colleagues. Please don't think I'm a total jerk."  
  
"No, sir."  
  
The silence sat uncomfortably for a quarter of an hour until Jack and Chris came back from seeing him. June stood up, and smiled sadly.  
  
"What do you guys think?" She asked.  
  
"He looks.," Jack searched for a word, "really awful, June."  
  
"I know." June sighed.  
  
"He's asking for you," Chris said, putting his hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Thanks, Chris."  
  
June walked down the hall and paused briefly before coming back into the room. Tentatively, she walked in, hoping the initial shock she had felt the first time she saw him wouldn't repeat itself. She smiled and put on a brave face for his benefit, and sat down next to him. John raised his hand, looking for hers. She held it gently.  
  
"How are you feeling, love?" she asked.  
  
"Well, they had me on morphine last night but I don't think they've given me anything quite that strong today. I don't feel bad, just some dull aches in places. My face aches."  
  
"You've got quite a few stitches. And your nose is broken."  
  
John raised his hand up to his face, touching, feeling the bandages and brace on his nose.  
  
"The good thing is, it doesn't look like it should leave that much of a scar."  
  
"Well there's a relief." He started to laugh but stopped quickly, "Ow. don't make me laugh, please."  
  
"Oh darling. sorry, I forgot about your ribs. sorry."  
  
Smithton walked into the room, and gently said, "John. do you feel up to telling me what exactly happened?"  
  
John began to tell his story, about the man whose van was broken down, waking up in the pit, the beatings, and the threats. He tried as best as he could to describe the pit he was kept in. He explained how he found the pipe to knock his captor out, and took his wallet so that the police would have something to ID his assailant with. He described walking for what seemed like hours, and waking up at the hospital.  
  
Smithton listened, and took down notes. June listened in horror. Racism like what John was exposed to, she thought, went out with the victories won in the civil rights movements in the 70's. But it was more than racism, it was xenophobia. Fear of outsiders. In fact, June thought, since they flew over, mostly everyone that they were exposed to were xenophobes.  
  
"Has this country really gotten so short sighted that we would be willing to murder people just on the basis of being foreign? Have we forgotten that America, Land of the Free and Home of the Brave, was a country created by immigrants for immigrants to live in complete freedom from oppression?"  
  
June spoke her thoughts out loud. Smithton and John looked at her.  
  
"Sorry. just thinking out loud," she said, getting up. She returned to the waiting room and told Jack and Chris about what had happened to John. Looking to make sure the nurses were busy, they all crowded back into John's room.  
  
"I've got an idea," Chris said, "You say you walked from where you were held to the shop where you passed out?"  
  
"Yes," John said.  
  
"Well, all we have to do is return to that shop and do a search of the area for a building that was used for garage work."  
  
Smithton looked at Chris, "Good idea. I'll get some people together to help." He walked out of the room.  
  
"Is he alright, June?" John asked.  
  
"Yeah. just hung up on some stuff, that's all."  
  
A nurse came into the room, "I'm afraid visiting hours are over for a while, you all have to leave."  
  
June stood up and Jack and Chris followed her out of the room. Smithton was talking on the cell phone.  
  
"Right," he said, hanging up the phone, "I've got the address for the superette. Some agents will meet us there. Let's go."  
  
"Sir, have you checked the ID in the wallet John picked up for the man's identity?"  
  
"No. good idea." Smithton took the wallet, which the police had given him, out of his pocket. He opened it and found the driver's license.  
  
"Douglas Payne. Ring any bells, June?"  
  
"Douglas Payne.. Hmm"  
  
"Wasn't he the customs officer on the list?" Jack asked.  
  
Smithton took out the list, "My God, you're right, Jack."  
  
Quickly, Smithton put out the all points bulletin for Payne.  
  
June, Jack and Chris exchanged looks. Their theory was right. 


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8.  
  
"We've got his address on file, and are sending some men around to his place right now. The odd thing is, he lives in Falls Church. What would he be doing up here in western Pennsylvania?" Smithton shouted towards the back seat.  
  
"Perhaps he had family up here, or knew someone?" June volunteered.  
  
"It's very likely he has some sort of tie to the garage," Jack offered, "because how else would he have known about it?"  
  
"Good point, Gov," Chris said.  
  
The black suburban slid through the back streets of Ambridge, and turned up a very high hill. The engine groaned and grumbled its way up the pavement, hitting every bump and pothole. They whizzed through the residential neighbourhoods, rolling valleys and hills on either side of them.  
  
"Pretty country around here," Chris said.  
  
"Yeah, but a bit economically destitute since the early 70's. The whole Pittsburgh area is. Since the steel mills left, most people lost their jobs and nothing's come in here large enough to replace them."  
  
"All this Ambridge stuff," Jack said, "It makes me feel like I'm in the Archers."  
  
Chris laughed, and June smiled. A mangy dog started barking at the Suburban speeding past.  
  
About 10 minutes later, they had arrived at the Superette. There were a few black cars sitting outside of it, with agents inside of them.  
  
Smithton, June, Jack and Chris got out of the Suburban.  
  
"I want every possible route traced from here for a 5 mile radius. Jackson, you go north, we'll go south, Henry, go east, and Evans, go west. Radios on, and if anything looks likely, put out the call."  
  
"Right sir," the officers said almost in unison. They got in their cars and drove off.  
  
Smithton, June, Jack and Chris turned right out of the superette and started up a small grade. They crested a hill and passed the cemetery. Almost immediately visible was a red barn with a horse farm attached to it.  
  
They were so busy admiring the scenic horse farm that they almost missed what was sitting immediately to their left. Chris caught it out of the corner of his eye.  
  
"Sir, look left."  
  
There was a little white house sitting in front of a dilapidated industrial- looking building. Some rusty old school buses were visible. Smithton took a left.  
  
Pulling up in front of the building, there were two large bays. A brown industrial door sat in the middle of it. Also attached to the place was a wooden structure, with windows broken. A sign hung on the front, faded, which read 'Payne Transit, Inc.'  
  
They got out of the suburban and looked around. This could definitely be it.  
  
"Sir!" Chris called out, "These tyre tracks are fresh!"  
  
"Right, we're going in." Smithton went to the office portion, and kicked the front door three times. It gave in. There was a second door, and a kick was enough to break it off of its hinges.  
  
The room they entered was obviously part of a waiting room of some sort. They proceeded down a narrow hallway, with doors leading off of it. A large fire door was at the end of the hallway. A sharp kick and it came open. They were in a garage area. It was very dark, as there were no windows. A back entrance door was just visible because of the light streaming in around it. June pushed it open, airing out the stale smell of grease and sweat. The garage filled with light. An old school bus sat at the far end. They walked over to it. Two large pieces of plywood were underneath the bus, and it was hard to tell what was underneath the plywood. June tapped her foot against it, and the way the wood bent, told her there was no floor underneath it.  
  
"This is the place, sir," June said.  
  
"All agents, we've found the place. It's the second left, southbound direction past the superette. Horse farm on the right, on the left, white house and it's behind the white house," Smithton spoke into his radio.  
  
Chris opened the man door at the front of the garage. His eyes fell upon something in the dirt directly outside of the door.  
  
"Gov, There's blood." Chris pointed. Smithton came over and took a look at it.  
  
Smithton dialled the FBI in Pittsburgh and requested a forensics agent to come up.  
  
"Here's how he must have came and went," Jack said, "there's a trap door."  
  
Obscured by the back bumper of the school bus, directly underneath was indeed a small trap door, with a large bolt on it. Jack gingerly opened it, and Smithton flashed a torch down into it. There were tiny pin-pricks of light.  
  
"Rats," June said. "It's rats' eyes."  
  
Smithton closed it back up. "June, go out and get the camera so we can take pictures of the crime scene. We're not going down there; we'll just move the bus off of the boards and shift them."  
  
June was visibly upset and welcomed a chance to get out of this nightmare of a place where her husband had been held captive. It stank of blood and decay, and loads of chemical odours.  
  
'It's a wonder John didn't have some sort of disease from living in that pit for days, with open wounds, and rats crawling over him,' she thought to herself.  
  
She got the camera from the car just as a few agents were pulling in. They waved to her and went into the garage. June waited for a few minutes. Jack came out, and walked over to her.  
  
"This is really awful, June."  
  
"I know, Jack. I can't believe it. My mind refuses to grasp the concept that he was kept down there."  
  
Jack put his arm around June, "Just thank goodness he's John and got free, eh?"  
  
June smiled at Jack. Smithton came out and walked over. "June." he started, and looked at her. "June, can I have the camera please?"  
  
"Here," she said, handing over the camera. The officers inside continued their work. For Jack and June, however, their focus was on apprehending Douglas Payne.  
  
* * *  
  
The van barrelled down the Pennsylvania Turnpike going 20 miles over the speed limit. Rain sheeted down in buckets, and other vehicles were only apparent from the red dots of taillights. Douglas Payne was very angry with himself for letting his captive get away. He still had the address though, where he and his traitor of a wife lived. He was going to get back at them, as soon as he met with The Leader and got some more cash.  
  
* * *  
  
John was being flown by helicopter to Arlington Hospital to finish his recovery. June, Jack, Smithton and Chris were riding back to Arlington in the FBI helicopter. Smithton's phone had been glued to his ear for the past half hour, while June, Jack and Chris had been discussing possible motives for the kidnapping.  
  
"Perhaps he's insane?" Chris said.  
  
"Well, insanity's a safe bet... you'd have to be a nutter to kidnap a complete stranger in the first place," June said.  
  
"Did he seem at all odd to you when you went through, June?" Jack asked.  
  
"No. bog standard US customs bloke. Surly, nasty, and hard-assed. That's how they all are. To be honest, I was just so glad to be off of that sodding plane I didn't really notice."  
  
Smithton hung up the phone. "Right, Payne's not at his house, although they're watching it. A vehicle matching the description of the van he used to abduct John has left the Pennsylvania Turnpike at Breezewood about two hours ago, so he's probably getting close to the beltway.  
  
The helicopter started its' descent towards Quantico. The mood of the occupants was noticeably lighter than what it was on the outward journey, except for Smithton. It was obvious to June he had something on his mind. Regardless, she had her John back, alive, and that was all that really mattered.  
  
* * *  
  
The phone rang at Smithton's apartment around 3:30 AM.  
  
"Hello?" He said.  
  
"There are men are outside my house. I thought you were going to fix that, sir."  
  
"I couldn't. They were with me all day and I couldn't change the orders."  
  
"Where am I supposed to sleep tonight?"  
  
"Get a motel. There's one on South Glebe Avenue, so you'll be close by."  
  
"With all due respect, sir, I can't afford that."  
  
"Listen, Doug," Smithton was getting angry, "You either get a hotel or get arrested by my men. Those are your choices."  
  
"Can't I stay with you, sir?"  
  
"Oh sure, and how will that look, the man that kidnapped her husband is sleeping in my apartment. Think again. Anyway, we'll reimburse you. How did he get away?"  
  
"I. I made a mistake. there was an old exhaust from a bus down there. He found it and whacked me over the head with it."  
  
"June insisted that an agent keep watch at his room so he's off limits. The bitch is going to pay."  
  
"What do you want me to do, sir?"  
  
"There's a black car parked in the lot of Super Wal-Mart in Arlington. Inside it are your instructions, and the materials needed to do it. Let her husband live, it will be better for him to live, and watch his two cohorts, and that bitch whore die. Remember, son, you're doing this to purify your country from these foreign parasites."  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"Goodbye."  
  
* * *  
  
It was Sunday. Seven days into her honeymoon. June and John should be in Delaware on a rented boat, floating about the shoreline. Instead, John was in hospital and June, Jack and Chris were trying to find the person who put them there. The thought depressed June entirely, along with the throbbing headache she had. They had gone to a bar last night, after returning from Quantico, to celebrate getting John back. It was the take-aways they got and drank after getting home that did it to her. Her head throbbed and pulsated. Stumbling downstairs with her robe wrapped around her, she was surprised to find Chris already awake and working on something.  
  
"Good morning, June. Sleep well?"  
  
June grunted and opened the fridge. She got the carton of orange juice and poured herself a large glass.  
  
"Hung over are we?"  
  
"Yeah... you might say that."  
  
After stumbling about the kitchen for a few minutes her brain switched on and she was able to articulate again.  
  
"Are you hungry, Chris?"  
  
"No, I helped myself to some toast."  
  
"Alright. Is Jack up yet?" She took a cereal bowl from the cabinet and fished about the cupboards for a box of Rice Krispies.  
  
"No. He was pretty pissed last night. I think it'll be a while. Didn't you hear the snoring?"  
  
"Oh that's what it was. I wondered why I had a dream about clearing a forest with a chainsaw."  
  
Chris laughed. June grinned and poured milk on her cereal. She took her bowl over to the table and sat down.  
  
"What are you working on?"  
  
"Clues. I'm studying the clues."  
  
"Anything spring to mind?"  
  
"Yeah. Payne's associates. Have we questioned the people he works with?"  
  
"No, can't say we have."  
  
"Perhaps you should call Dulles Customs and find out about him."  
  
"Good idea. After we see John we can drive up there."  
  
The phone rang. June answered it.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"June... it's me."  
  
"John, hi! How are you love?"  
  
"I'm alright. Still sore all over."  
  
"How was the flight down?"  
  
"Really good. No problems. I liked the hospital in Pittsburgh better."  
  
June laughed, "Well I should have just left you there, then!"  
  
John started to laugh, but groaned, "Ow.. You're doing it again! Stop making me laugh!"  
  
June smiled. John continued, "I just thought of something, anyway, and thought you should know. The guy mentioned some organization he belonged to, the National Front for American Supremacy. Does that ring any bells?"  
  
"No. not that I'm aware of. What did he say about it?"  
  
"He said that it was going to purify the nation."  
  
"Oh god. He's a fundamentalist."  
  
"Yeah, sounded that way."  
  
"Alright. I'll look into it."  
  
"Ok. I love you sweetheart."  
  
"I love you too darling. Do you need anything?"  
  
"Yeah, can you bring me some clean clothes and toiletries?"  
  
"Sure thing, darling."  
  
"See you soon, love."  
  
June hung up. Chris looked at her expectantly. "We've got another clue for your list." 


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9.  
  
"National Front for American Supremacy," Smithton said, "Never heard of them."  
  
"I did a search in the agency's computers and we don't have anything on them. Perhaps it's a grass roots movement?" June asked.  
  
"Possibly," Smithton said, "Or it could be one guy's quest to make a name for himself."  
  
"That's a possibility as well," June said.  
  
"Anyway, don't spend too much time on it. Why don't you go talk to his associates at the airport?"  
  
"Alright sir. Thank you."  
  
"Goodbye." Smithton hung up.  
  
* * *  
  
June, Jack and Chris headed out the door. They were going to see John first, then go to the airport. June put a bag with some things for John in the boot. Chris and Jack got in.  
  
"Do you smell something?" Chris asked Jack.  
  
Jack sniffed the air, "Yeah. smells a bit like petrol."  
  
"I thought so as well."  
  
June climbed into the car. She put the key in the ignition and tried to start. It failed.  
  
"What's wrong with this thing then?" She tried again, and it failed to start. She began pumping the gas pedal. Jack brought his hand down on her knee.  
  
"Stop, June." They were silent for a moment. "Get out. Quickly, get out."  
  
They climbed out of the car. Jack got down on his hands and knees and looked underneath the vehicle. There were five sticks of explosive taped to the petrol tank. A wire was leading to the ignition.  
  
"June, someone's put a car bomb on this vehicle!"  
  
They quickly went inside. Jack and Chris looked visibly nervous.  
  
"I served in Northern Ireland before I joined the force," Jack said, "I knew there was something not quite right. We got out just in time. One more turn of the key and we probably would be done for."  
  
"We must be getting close," Chris said, "for this guy to try it again."  
  
* * *  
  
June picked up the phone and called the police, telling them to send over the bomb squad. She then dialled Smithton.  
  
"Sir," June began, "my car has been tampered with. Someone has wired a car bomb to it."  
  
"Oh my God, June. I'll be right over. Have you called anyone else?"  
  
"Yes, I've had the police send over the bomb squad."  
  
"Right, be there in a few minutes."  
  
June waited outside for a few moments and the bomb squad showed up. They examined her car, and set to work disabling the bomb.  
  
"Yeah, it's a simple mechanism," the technician said, "it shouldn't take us long to disable it. The interesting thing, however, is that the explosive used is C4. Military plastic explosive. Your average civilian couldn't have gotten a hold of this easily."  
  
"Where could it have been obtained?" June asked.  
  
"Either he has someone inside the military with access to it, or he knows some foreign terrorists looking to sell off their surplus. Those are about the only places that it's available," the technician said.  
  
"Like, who, in the military would use it?" June asked.  
  
"Well. FBI, CIA, Army, Navy and Marines special operations teams. that's about it really."  
  
"I know we had it at the FBI, but only specially trained people can use it," June said, "We would only use it to break down a door during a siege on a building."  
  
After ten minutes, the bomb squad had it disabled. They took away the parts for analysis. June, who had been watching the events, went inside. Jack and Chris followed her.  
  
"June. do you have the internet here?" Chris asked.  
  
"Yes. why?"  
  
"Often times these grass roots organizations may have a website. Maybe the National Front for American Supremacy does."  
  
"Good thinking, Chris!" She opened up her laptop and logged on.  
  
Doing a search using AltaVista, she came up with a promising link to www.american-supremacy.org. A midi file of the national anthem started playing. The American flag was used as the background. It was a homemade page, nothing flashy or special. The text appeared on the page:  
  
AMERICAN CITIZENS: UNITE TO FIGHT THE ENEMY  
  
Every day, thousands of foreigners flood our ports of entry into this great nation. They come to steal our jobs, destroy our culture and suckle at the breast of this great land. We, the National Front for American Supremacy have had enough of these parasites flooding our nation.  
  
We stand for America FIRST! An America for AMERICANS and not for every smelly, slimy, lazy dredge of an immigrant that comes here to take advantage of our welfare system. WE pay for their laziness in our tax dollars, and we have had enough!  
  
We meet every Thursday at the United Legion, 442 Old Dominion Drive, Arlington, VA. 7:30 PM. For more information call J. Smithton on (214) 240 2041, or email amerciansupremacy@hotmail.com.  
  
As June read the last line, her blood ran cold. Suddenly everything made sense.  
  
June pointed towards the screen. "Jack, Chris. read this," she said, barely a whisper  
  
They read the last line in silence. Exchanging looks, June picked up the phone. There was a loud rap on the front door, causing all three to jump. June slammed down the screen of the laptop.  
  
"Who is it?" she asked.  
  
"It's me, June. Can I come in?" Smithton said through the door.  
  
"Uh, sure thing. Just a second." She motioned for Jack and Chris to go upstairs.  
  
She grabbed her weapon and put her holster on. Quickly, she flipped the safety off.  
  
"Come in, Sir," she said, opening the door.  
  
"Where's Starsky and Hutch?" Smithton asked.  
  
"They took the bus to the hospital to see John."  
  
"I see. All alone, are you?"  
  
"Yeah, for the time being."  
  
Smithton walked through to the kitchen at the back of the house. Their unease had soaked into the rooms, in the carpets and walls. June felt the tension in the air; it almost crackled before her eyes.  
  
"So, sir. they said the explosive was C4. Obviously this guy has some connection in the military or something."  
  
Smithton nodded. June could see his eyes darting around. He saw the laptop computer on the kitchen table. Two mug of tea with milk in them sat on the table, still steaming.  
  
"Yes. it would seem that way. Anyway, you need to get up to the airport to see about Payne's associates, don't you? I can drive you."  
  
June was silent for a second. All of a sudden a noise from the laptop broke the air. It was the midi file from the website, playing the national anthem.  
  
June and Smithton locked eyes for a second. She saw him going for his holster and beat him to it. In one quick, fluid motion she had her weapon drawn and aimed.  
  
"Freeze! Do not draw your weapon. Put your hands on your head."  
  
Jack and Chris came downstairs. They went to either side of Smithton. June momentarily dropped aim to search for her handcuffs on her holster. That was all Smithton needed. He punched Jack in the stomach and elbowed Chris out of the way.  
  
Smithton ran out of the house, and June followed afterwards. He was in his car, starting it, and June followed. She aimed at his front right tyre, shooting it out. She then aimed at his head through the glass. He was struggling to get his keys in the ignition. Chris came out of the house.  
  
"Get to his door, I'll keep him covered."  
  
Chris opened up the car door as the engine roared. Before Smithton could slip it in gear, Chris had him halfway out of the car door. Smithton punched wildly, and Chris ducked out of the way. He grabbed Smithton's arm and twisted it to an awkward angle, forcefully. Smithton howled in pain as the muscle separated from the bone.  
  
"I am arresting you for conspiracy and attempted murder. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to be speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you at government expense. We foreign slime bags aren't as stupid as you thought, Mr. Smithton." Chris gave the arm a twist again and Smithton screamed.  
  
June cuffed Smithton. She removed his gun from its holster. They took him inside and Jack and Chris restrained him while June called Smithton's boss, the Deputy Director of the FBI, Michael Reigner, and told him the situation.  
  
In almost no time at all, a black car pulled up and Smithton was taken from the house. That was the last time June ever saw him.  
  
* * *  
  
"To be honest, love, I never liked him anyway." John said, after hearing the news. June sat beside his bed, and Chris and Jack stood in the room.  
  
"He was very kind to me after my parents and Thomas were killed. but that was a long time ago. I just wonder what drove him to start an extremist group, and more to the point, kidnap you."  
  
"Maybe he had a thing for you, June?" Chris said.  
  
June hesitated, then spoke, "I know he did. He told me in Pittsburgh he did. It really surprised me, you know, but he didn't really sound bitter about it! Just that he wished that he and I could have been something once upon a time. I had no knowledge he felt that way before."  
  
"There you go, John's kidnapped was premeditated then," Jack said.  
  
"But why would he put a car bomb on your car?" John asked.  
  
"I don't know. It doesn't make sense," June said.  
  
"Perhaps, he was trying to kill us. After all, we're foreign slime bags," Chris chuckled and Jack cracked a half-smile.  
  
"But why kill me in the process? If he was going to go after anyone, I wonder why he didn't go after John again," June said.  
  
"Why aren't you going to do the interview, June?" John asked.  
  
"Well, because it's such a sensitive matter - corruption within the FBI and the like, there will be an internal investigation. The matter is, literally, out of our hands completely, with the exception of finding Douglas Payne, Smithton's accomplice. I'll be called to testify at his hearing and so will Jack and Chris, and maybe even you, love."  
  
"Fantastic. It'll be my pleasure." John tried to prop himself further upright. He winced at the pain, and beads of perspiration broke out on his forehead. June jumped to attention and placed her hands under his arm, helping. Chris came around the other side and assisted as well.  
  
"That's a bit better," John said, panting for air, "Any thoughts where we can find Payne?"  
  
"Well, hopefully in the interview Smithton will give some clue. They're taping it - non standard practice but in the case of corruption, it needs to be taped for reviewing purposes."  
  
"Fair enough." John closed his eyes. June gave Jack and Chris a meaningful look, and they both took their leave. June sat, holding John's hand, in silence for a few minutes.  
  
"Sweetheart?" John said.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I love you. I'm sorry this had to happen to me. I should have been more on my guard."  
  
"Shhh... don't say that John, you have nothing to be sorry for."  
  
"No. I feel like an idiot. I'm not in the bloody country for five minutes and I have 'Walking Target' written on my forehead. I feel like a stupid prat."  
  
"John. this was premeditated. We know that. You didn't bring this on yourself, you mustn't blame yourself."  
  
"But how can I not blame myself?" John said, exasperated. "I'm a bloody police officer; my job is to enforce public safety! How am I supposed to do that if I'm so stupid that I go get myself kidnapped?"  
  
"John, stop it. Look at me." John turned his head away. "Look at me, John. Look at me."  
  
John turned his head. She was surprised to see tears welling in the corner of his eyes. Reaching in her handbag she got a tissue and wiped his eyes.  
  
"John Anthony Boulton I love you. I don't care what you're thinking of yourself at the moment, I'm in love with a smart, clever, strong, handsome man. You were the victim of an extremist hate group's plot. You are not to blame for what happened to yourself. If your years in the job have taught you anything, it should have taught you that much - victims are rarely to blame for what has happened to them. You did nothing out of the ordinary. You went outside in good faith, to help a man fix his car. You had no knowledge that he was anything other than honest. How can it possibly be your fault? Is it your fault that you're a good person that helps his fellow man? That's hardly a fault in my book."  
  
John smiled a very small smile. June kissed him softly, "That's better."  
  
"Why did they have to send over Meadows and Deakin though? Couldn't they have sent over someone completely anonymous?"  
  
"Well, they did it because they knew you and yet they were able to be objective. Many times, it helps a victim to have as many friendly and familiar faces around them as possible when they're first found."  
  
"Familiar, yes. Friendly? Deakin? Do me a favour."  
  
"Actually, John, he's not really all that bad once you get to know him."  
  
"Try having him for your governor."  
  
"No thanks, I'll stick with Sir Steven Croft if it's all the same to you. Regardless, he's come up with loads of ideas and links in the case. I'm glad he's here - he's really proved invaluable."  
  
"Where are they staying?"  
  
"Well. with me, at the house."  
  
"They're staying at our house?" John exclaimed, angrily. "What the bloody hell are they doing at my house?"  
  
"Our house, John," June impatiently corrected, "And, because Smithton was in charge of the case, he refused to give them any accommodation, and instructed me to have them stay at my house because I had the room for them. I'm actually glad they were there because they kept me thinking objectively and not panicking and breaking down."  
  
"Well. as long as Deakin kept his hands to himself."  
  
"Why wouldn't he have? For God's sake, John, he wouldn't try it on with me!"  
  
"Deakin tries it on with everything that moves and wears a skirt!"  
  
"I think you need some more drugs, John, you're beginning to act like your old self again."  
  
"Ha bloody ha, misses!" John rolled his eyes.  
  
Jack poked his head into the room. "Is everything alright?"  
  
"Yeah, Jack. Just a few more minutes."  
  
June kissed John goodbye, "I'll see you tomorrow, love. Take care darling."  
  
"See you soon, sweetheart." 


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10  
  
June, Jack and Chris sat around the table at FBI Headquarters in Washington DC. Deputy Director Reigner was playing the tape of the interview with Smithton. His voice sounded shaky, tearful, and almost repenting. Reigner had conducted the interview.  
  
".I never meant to have June's husband abducted. I told Payne to spot for foreigners staying local, Hispanics and any foreigner that he didn't like the look of to be a target. I had no idea it was Special Agent Gowan's husband that he took until after the fact, when I got the call from June that her husband had gone."  
  
"Why did you not call it off then?" Reigner's voice was clear and without emotion.  
  
"Because I couldn't. it was already in motion and there was nothing I could do." Desperation was beginning to set in.  
  
"Are you saying that you couldn't have stopped Payne, or convinced him to let Boulton go?"  
  
"No. Once he was in Pennsylvania, no communication would take place."  
  
"Mr. Boulton's not the first foreigner you and Payne have kidnapped, is he? We found blood down in that pit that was not Mr. Boulton's."  
  
"No. we've done 3 so far. Kidnapped, beaten up, and we killed two of them."  
  
"Do you know their names?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Would you be able to identify them from the MO in which they were abducted?"  
  
"Yes," Smithton said, barely a whisper.  
  
There was a pause. Smithton was crying softly.  
  
"Explain the car bomb. Where did you get the explosive from?"  
  
"I took them. ordered too much for a raid and took what was left for the group."  
  
"You stole the explosives from the FBI Armoury?"  
  
"No. I took what was left over from a raid.  
  
"That's the same thing, Mr. Smithton."  
  
"Who installed the car bomb?"  
  
"Payne did. I left a car in the parking lot of Arlington Super Wal-Mart and he did it."  
  
"Why did you want to kill Special Agent Boulton, Detective Chief Inspector Meadows and Detective Inspector Deakin?"  
  
There was a silence.  
  
"Why did you want to kill them, Smithton?" Reigner's voice grew louder and angrier.  
  
".Because. I met June's husband in the hospital. Cocky arrogant son of a bitch. I was glad that he got the shit beat out of him and I hope he's scarred for life. I wanted to teach him a lesson. I wanted to teach all of them a lesson. June's a whore for being with some foreign son of a bitch. She should have been with me. I was going to take away that bastards friends and family and make him pay for stealing June from me." Smithton sounded utterly pathetic and broken. He sniffed audibly on the tape.  
  
"Did Special Agent Boulton and you have an intimate relationship?" Reigner's voice returned to an almost monotone.  
  
"No."  
  
"Did Special Agent Boulton know how you felt?"  
  
"No. not until I told her."  
  
"When did you tell her?"  
  
"In the hospital in Pittsburgh."  
  
"And what did she say?"  
  
"She was so cold about it. She refused me."  
  
"So you thought you'd teach her a lesson?"  
  
"Yeah, that's right." Smithton sounded a bit smug and hurt.  
  
Reigner began to provoke Smithton, "I don't think you wanted to call off the kidnapping."  
  
Silence.  
  
"I think that you told Payne to look for them, and you had the whole thing planned out from the beginning."  
  
"No. No honestly, I had no idea June was coming over. Check my records. The first communication I had from her was an email the evening before the abduction saying she was home."  
  
"I think you could have ended the kidnapping but you didn't want to did you? You wanted to kill Special Agent Boulton's husband. You wanted to kill him and you wanted to be the shoulder she cried on, didn't you?"  
  
Smithton started to sob, "I wanted to kill him from the moment I learned June was getting married. I didn't premeditate it though. I didn't. It was just coincidence."  
  
"But you could have stopped it and you didn't, did you? You wanted to kill Special Agent Boulton's husband, and when you failed at that, you wanted to kill Special Agent Boulton and her husband's associates."  
  
".yes." It almost sounded like a crackle on the tape.  
  
Reigner paused in the questioning for about a minute to let Smithton compose himself.  
  
"Who all is a member of the National Front for American Supremacy?"  
  
"Just Payne and myself."  
  
"Do you know where Payne is?"  
  
"No. probably the Motel Six off of exit 25 on the beltway."  
  
"Interview terminated at 12:42 AM."  
  
* * *  
  
"Because he gave a full confession," Reigner said, "He'll skip the whole hearing and it will be a straightforward trial. You might not even need to testify, although John will."  
  
"I just don't believe this, sir. Smithton helped me through my parent's, and Thomas's murders. He's the one that organized it for me to go to England. I never thought he had such horrible tendencies. I never even knew he had a thing for me," June said.  
  
"I think that maybe he may have had a mental breakdown of sorts," Jack volunteered. "He doesn't sound like a sane man."  
  
"Do you think we should get him evaluated?" Reigner asked Jack.  
  
"Well, the choice is yours, but in my experience, he sounds like he's exhibiting symptoms of depression and maybe even obsessive disorder. Paranoia, his obsession with June and foreigners, and the way he absolutely collapsed during questioning. Normal people don't get quite so hysterical," Jack said.  
  
"I can see your point, Mr. Meadows," Reigner said, "I think you may be on to something. Although if we do get him evaluated, it will have to be for FBI disqualification purposes only. We don't want him trying the insanity plea, do we June?"  
  
"No sir." June almost smiled.  
  
"Please, gentlemen, call me Mike if you wish. It's all a bit complicated with these titles and trying to figure out who outranks who, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes it is, isn't it?" Chris said.  
  
"Chris, I believe?" Reigner said.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And you are Jack?" Reigner asked.  
  
"Yes," said Meadows.  
  
"Do you mind if I call you that?"  
  
"No, not at all."  
  
Reigner took a sip of coffee. Jack and Chris looked at each other and shrugged.  
  
"June?" Reigner asked.  
  
"Yes sir?"  
  
"You still have to call me sir."  
  
"Ok sir. I thought as much," June said, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of Reigner's conversation. She had heard rumours that he was a bit on the daft side, but never had to deal with him before, due to the fact that he outranked her by a few levels. June knew him casually, they had been introduced a few times before but that was about her limit of contact with Reigner up until now.  
  
"I'm giving you full authority to finish this investigation in Smithton's absence, June. Jack and Chris can help you, and if you need any backup, you can arrange it yourself. If anyone questions you, tell them you're working under me."  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
Reigner got up to leave, "Good luck and keep me posted."  
  
"Yes sir.. Oh, sir? One question."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Did you send people to have Payne picked up?"  
  
"No, June. It's your investigation now. I only had to do the interview. It's all in your hands now."  
  
"Oh I see. Alright, sir. Thank you."  
  
"Thank you June. Nice meeting you, Jack, Chris."  
  
Reigner walked out and shut the door behind them. June, Chris and Jack got up to go.  
  
As they were making their way out of the room, Chris mumbled, "What a wally," loud enough for June to hear. She started to laugh, which was the first time she really laughed in days. Jack smiled and Chris looked at her, bewildered. She shrugged and they walked out of the building.  
  
* * *  
  
June had decided to do a small scale raid on the Motel 6 at nightfall. Five agents, armed, sat inside a van in the parking lot. On the side of the van was painted "Senor Miguel's Travelling Flamenco Band". Another van, identical, was parked beside of it, and was conducting surveillance on Payne's room. His van sat there, the one identified by the girl at Pentagon City Mall's car park. June, Jack, and Chris were watching the room in the surveillance van.  
  
"I miss my team from London - my professionals. I hate using Agency plods. They always send the green ones," June grumbled.  
  
"John told me about your team, June. He was amazed that you had your own hand-picked staff for surveillance and raids," Jack said. "I can see why, though."  
  
"International cases like what I do in London require a dedicated team of professionals because there's only one shot. Either I nick them, or someone else, in some other country will. And there is no way I will lose a body due to a technicality or a cock-up."  
  
"I wish you could come give our team a pep talk," Jack said.  
  
"It could be arranged if you wanted it," June said.  
  
"Our lot? You must be joking. The only thing they understand is going for a tea break," Chris said.  
  
"Now Chris, I worked with your guys. I don't think there's anything wrong with them."  
  
"Apart from our clear-up rates," Chris said.  
  
"It's hard. I know they do their best, but on estates like what you guys deal with, the crime is so concentrated, and it's hard to pinpoint exactly who's doing what."  
  
It was getting darker outside. June peered through the binoculars.  
  
"I see blue light flashing in his room - the TV's on. He's in."  
  
She got on the radio, "He's home. Standby. No subterfuge, I want to take him by surprise. Take the door, and take him quickly, don't give him any time. I want you in this order - Rich, you take the door. Todd, Brian, in after Rich, I want you to take him. Albert, Dave, I want you on backup. We'll be behind you. Are you ready to proceed?"  
  
The radio crackled, "Yes ma'am."  
  
"Alright." She paused for a few seconds for them to build up their anticipation.  
  
"Go, go go!"  
  
The back of the van burst open. Five men ran across the parking lot, like clockwork in her order. Rich had the door down with one mighty crack of the enforcer. Todd and Brian were in. June heard shouting, "FBI... Freeze!" coming from the room, and all was silent.  
  
They opened up the van door and they got out. They ran towards the room. Something wasn't right.  
  
The men stood there, frozen, peering into the room. June pushed her way through them.  
  
Payne was dead, hanging from a makeshift noose in the ceiling. The TV flickered on his face, illuminating his eyes in the dark room, making it look like there was still life in them. His hands were cold; he had been hanging there probably since early afternoon. There was a note on the bed. Jack picked it up, as Brian and Dave cut Payne down.  
  
"I ain't going to jail over some slimy foreigner," is all it said.  
  
June was on her mobile phone getting the ambulance to come. The heat hung dead in the air, and she almost couldn't breathe. Chris and Jack walked out of the room and she looked at both of them.  
  
"At least it's over. That's all I'm happy about. Life can get back to normal now," June said. Waves of relief flooded over her, like a dam breaking loose inside of her. She felt the tears starting to come, and couldn't fight them, so she turned her back on her men, so they wouldn't see her cry. Jack put his arm around her while Chris fielded the ambulance and gave out some orders. 


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11.  
  
"Right, you both take care, and thank you for everything!" June said, walking Jack and Chris to their gate.  
  
"It was our pleasure, June. We're just glad that everything worked out," Jack said.  
  
"Tell John that he need not rush back to work. Let us know when you're both back in the UK and then we'll discuss John coming back. He needs time to heal, although I'm not sure how long you'll be able to take having him around!" Chris exclaimed.  
  
"It won't be so bad; they're putting a walking cast on him in a few days and starting his rehab. The doctor said he's making a rapid recovery!" June said.  
  
"As long as he doesn't overdo it. He's too stubborn to stay down for much longer though," said Jack. "I'm sure he'll be fine."  
  
"British Airways flight 111 to London Heathrow now boarding all passengers, all rows," the announcement said.  
  
"That's us. You look after yourself June. Thank you for your hospitality," Jack said, giving June a hug and a kiss on the cheek.  
  
Chris did likewise and said, "See you soon, alright? Take care and give Robocop my regards."  
  
June laughed, "Will do Chris."  
  
She watched them get on the plane. Chris turned around and waved, and she waved back. The flight closed up and the plane pushed back. June smiled to herself as the plane disappeared from her view down the Tarmac.  
  
* * *  
  
John was coming home today. June had made the house look good in anticipation of his return. After Jack and Chris left, she removed the last of the cloths on the furniture. She had a cleaner come in to help her get the place sparkling. There were vases of flowers all over the house. In the parlour, she had the bed from the guest room moved downstairs, so John wouldn't have to climb steps with his cast on. June even rented a low car to bring him home so he wouldn't have to get up into her 4x4.  
  
John was wheeled out to the front of the hospital and the nurses helped him get into the low sedan.  
  
"Hi," he said.  
  
"Hi," she said.  
  
"How are you feeling, love?" June asked.  
  
"Alright. I guess."  
  
They had taken the stitches out of his face and even though there was a faint red line in places, there wasn't going to be any permanent scarring.  
  
Their house was very close to the hospital. They rode in silence back home.  
  
June helped John up out of the car, and helped to steady him on the gravel driveway. She guided him into the parlour-turned-bedroom and he carefully laid down on the bed. His ribs weren't bothering him so much anymore, except for sharp sudden movements.  
  
"Can I get you anything, darling?"  
  
"Yeah. you. I want my wife."  
  
June laid down next to him. He embraced her, and pulled her close.  
  
"You don't know how much I've missed you."  
  
"Oh, but I do. I've missed you just as much."  
  
They kissed lovingly, over and over again.  
  
"Tell me everything that happened. What was it like living with Meadows and Deakin? Did he try it on?" John asked, playfully.  
  
June laughed, "They were perfect gentlemen! Chris was very gracious and nice to me, as was Jack."  
  
"Ooooh, on a first name basis with the governors, are we?" John taunted.  
  
"They're not my bloody governors, John, they're yours!"  
  
"Yeah yeah, still. Proper governor's pet, aren't we?"  
  
"Yeah, mine wished and all.," June rolled her eyes  
  
"I still can't get over Smithton. Imagine him fancying his chances? All this, just to get you to go out with him!"  
  
"It was a little more to it than that, John!"  
  
"Still. what a complete and utter prat!"  
  
"Yeah. you're not wrong there, love."  
  
"Is there any follow-up?"  
  
"Yeah, we may potentially be called as witnesses for Smithton's trial. You may need to make a statement in the next few days. Jack and Chris gave statements about the car bomb, and it's doubtful they'll be needed seeing as they live in London. Other than that, it's pretty much finished. Of course the Agency is making a case to discharge Smithton, but we shouldn't need to be involved in that."  
  
"Fair enough. How am I going to get back to London though?"  
  
"Well, Chris and Jack said take as much time as you need to over here. Once you can travel we'll go back to London and once you're well enough you can go back. No problems."  
  
"Maybe I don't want to go back?"  
  
"Why not? Surely you don't want to come back here to America ever again, after what you've been through!"  
  
"Well. yeah, I had a run in with some loonies. Most of the people are pretty nice though. From what I've seen, apart from the undersides of buses and rat filled pits, it seems like a pretty country and I'd like to see more of it!"  
  
"Fair enough, I suppose!" June exclaimed.  
  
"You know. we don't need to return anytime straight away, do we?" John said.  
  
"No."  
  
"And, we never did get to have our proper honeymoon."  
  
"That's true."  
  
"Does Meadows and Deakin know I was let out today?"  
  
"I don't think they do." June said.  
  
"Once I get a bit steadier on these crutches. do you want to go up for a week at the beach house like we planned?"  
  
"I'd love to," June grinned. John pulled her towards him, kissing her, and laughing. "Ow, ow, my concussion's flaring up again."  
  
"You're a terrible faker, you know that?" June said, between kisses.  
  
"Yeah, but they don't have to know!"  
  
June smiled as her husband held her close to him. She listened to the steady, regular heartbeat coming from his chest. Feeling drowsy, she closed her eyes, and focused on the strong rhythm. June felt her whole body relax in his arms, and she felt like she was able to breathe, for the first time in ages. He was safe, and she was safe in his arms.  
  
Things rarely work out the way we plan them to go. Events, scenes from our lives, often times, we wish they had been different, we wish we could change them. A perfect moment is rare for anybody. But for John and June, this was as close to perfection as anything ever could be. And, in that moment, June knew that everything was going to be alright. They had a love strong enough to withstand anything life could throw at them, and both John and June knew that they would never be alone again.  
  
"What God has joined together, let no man destroy." 


	13. Epilogue

Epilogue.  
  
June dressed in black that day. John was still asleep when she slipped out of the house. They were leaving for the beach house that afternoon. There was no way she could come to America and not stop by at least once.  
  
She stopped off at a flower shop and bought a dozen crimson roses. The drive to Alexandria didn't take that long. The cemetery was on the riverside. Both Thomas and her parents were buried there. She parked the car and made her way through the field, to the graves.  
  
June made her way through the stones and knelt in the dewy grass. She spoke to her parents as she pulled the weeds out from around their headstones.  
  
"Mom, dad. I'm married. I hope you saw me. He's a lovely, good, strong man. I think you would like him, dad. He's a police officer from England. His name is John. He's really good to me and I love him so much.  
  
"I miss you both. I hope you both forgive me for what happened. I'm so sorry. I know I say this every time I come but I do blame myself. I should have done what you told me to do mom. Then maybe we all would have been alive and happy together.  
  
"I'm really trying to make my own life in England. I've got some good friends there, and have adjusted well. John and I are happy there. He loves our house, by the way.  
  
"Look after yourselves. I think of you both all the time and I hope wherever you are that you're both well. I love you both."  
  
June kissed each of their stones. She took her flowers and got up.  
  
The stone read, simply, "Thomas Croswell, August 5 1968 - October 3 1995". She knelt by his graveside and started to pull the weeds out from around his headstone. Someone had left some flowers a while ago, and June reckoned it was his parents. She removed them and put her roses down.  
  
"Hi sweetheart. It's me. I suppose you know it already but I got married. Please don't be mad at me. I know you would have wanted me to move on with my life - I would have wanted the same.  
  
"My husband's name is John. He's a police officer. He's a really great guy, Tom. I love him so much. After you died I never thought I would love again. It's taken me so long to get over this, and I'm happy again. I know it's what you would have wanted.  
  
"You'll never believe it but Smithton went off the deep end. He started some extremist hate group and kidnapped John. I caught him in the end and he's getting kicked out, not to mention incarcerated! He was always a bit weird - remember we used to laugh about it?  
  
June stood up. She kissed the tombstone. "You take care of yourself, Thomas, wherever you are, and keep an eye on my parents. I love you, and miss you, but I have to go now. It's time I lived my new life and stopped holding onto the past. Maybe next time I'm home I'll bring John down to meet you and mom and dad."  
  
"Goodbye, Thomas. God bless you."  
  
As she turned away from the graves towards her car, the sun hit her straight on in the face, and she rejoiced. June felt like she was going to float away, as she left the cemetery. June closed her eyes, and in her minds eye she could see her parents, smiling at her. She saw Thomas waving, and she realised that the hurt and the pain were all gone. The ghosts of her past had been silenced. They were at peace, and so was she. The past was finally, completely put to rest once and for all. All that was left was her future - their future - together. She drove back to Arlington, as quick as possible, to see John.  
  
* * *  
  
John had gotten up, and had been hobbling about the house on his crutches. He couldn't stand the damn things. He had been feeling a lot better, though, lately. For most of the past few weeks he had been feeling like he had gotten caught in front of a high speed train to Liverpool. June had been taking good care of him though. He had heard her leave, but was too tired to ask where she was off to. She had been gone for an hour and he was starting to get worried.  
  
John heard the key slip into the lock and was relieved. He realised that he had been inadvertently panicking.  
  
"Where have you been?" John asked. "I was worried about you!"  
  
John had started breakfast. He was making omelettes for both of them.  
  
"I just slipped down to Alexandria to visit my parents' graves."  
  
"You should have told me, I would have gone with you!"  
  
"No. not this time. Next time we come over I'd like you to come."  
  
"Not ready to introduce me to your parents, then?" John teased.  
  
June smiled, "I was just preparing them for a shock - an Englishman in the family."  
  
"Hey, do they have a problem with foreigners?"  
  
"Not in the slightest, and sod them if they do!" June put her arms around his waist, and he kissed her deeply. His crutches fell out from beside him, clattering on the floor. June laughed, and bent down to get them for him.  
  
They sat down at the table. John dug straight into his food ravenously. June sipped her juice and studied him, her husband, handsome, glorious and perfect in his own unique way. That was her John - completely and utterly unaware of his own magnificence and beauty. That innocence, what he tried so hard to suppress in himself, was what June loved the most. She watched the sunlight stream through the windows and pick up the highlights in his red hair, and fell in love with him, over and over again.  
  
"What are you looking at?" John asked her. "Are you alright darling?"  
  
"Yeah love. You know, I am now." June said, smiling.  
  
The End. 


End file.
